
Book '"P g 



/ 

THE 

AMERICAN UNION SPEAKER; 



CONTAINING 



STANDAED AND RECENT SELECTIONS 

- 
PROSE AND POETRY, 

FOR RECITATION AND DECLAMATION, IN SCHOOLS, 
ACADEMIES AND COLLEGES. 



INTRODUCTORY REMARKS ON ELOCUTION. 



EXPLANATORY NOTES. 



By JOHN D. PHILBRICK, 

SUPERINTENDENT OF THE PUBLIC SCHOOLS OP BOSTON. 



BOSTON: 
TAGGARD AND THOMPSON. 

1865. 



*P S 






Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1865, by 
z John D. Philbrick, 
in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. 






RIVERSIDE, CAMBRIDGE! 

STEREOTYPED AND PRINTED BY 

H. O. HOUGHTON AND COMPANY. 



PREFACE 



The design of this book is twofold, — to meet the present demand 
for new selections suited to the spirit of the hour, and also to furnish 
a*choice collection of standard pieces for elocutionary exercises on 
which time has set its lasting seal. In the execution of this design 
no pains have been spared in selecting and preparing the best pieces, 
both new and old. 

The extracts from recent productions, numbering about one hundred, 
by more than fifty different authors, are now for the first time presented 
in a Speaker. They are for the most part the eloquent utterances of 
our best orators and poets, inspired by the present national crisis, and 
are therefore " all compact of the passing hour," breathing " the fine 
sweet spirit of nationality, — the nationality of America." They give 
expression to the emotions excited, the hopes inspired, and the duties 
imposed by this stormy and perilous period. They afford brilliant 
illustrations of the statesmanship of the crisis. Sumner exposes the 
origin and mainspring of the rebellion, Douglass strips off its pretext, 
Everett paints its crime, Boutwell boldly proclaims its remedy in 
emancipation, and Banks pronounces a benediction on the first act of 
reconstruction on the solid basis of freedom to all. They furnish also 
an epitome of the conflict of arms. Bryant utters the rallying cry to 
the people, Whittier responds in the united voice of the North, Holmes 
sounds the grand charge, Pierpont gives the command " Forward ! " 
Longfellow and Boker immortalize the unconquerable heroism of our 
braves on sea and land, and Andrew and Beecher speak in tender 
accents the gratitude of loyal hearts to our fallen heroes. 

These new pieces will for a time receive the preference over old ones, 
and some of them will survive the period which called them forth. But 
to insure for the work, if possible, a permanent value as a Standard 
Speaker for students of common schools, higher seminaries and colleges, 
the greater part of the selections, nearly three hundred in number, 
have been chosen from those of acknowledged excellence, and of un- 
questionable merit as exercises for recitation and declamation. This 
department comprises every variety of style necessary in elocutionary 
culture. 



iv PREFACE. 

Another important feature of the collection is the introduction of 
those masterpieces of oratory — long excluded from books of this class, 
though now rendered appropriate by the new phase of public opinion, — 
which advocate the inalienable rights of man, and denounce the crime 
of human bondage. 

Aware of the deep and lasting power which pieces used for decla- 
mation exert in moulding the ideas and opinions of the young, it 
has been my aim to admit only such productions as inculcate the 
noblest and purest sentiments, teaching patriotism, loyalty, and justice, 
and firing the youthful heart with ambition to be useful, and with 
heroic devotion to duty. 

The text of the extracts has been made to conform to that of ftie 
most authentic editions of the works of their authors. Some pieces 
which have heretofore been presented in a mutilated form, are here 
restored to their original completeness. Where compression or abridg- 
ment has been necessary, it has been executed with caution, and with 
strict regard to the sentiments and ideas of the authors. 

Fully convinced that elaborate treatises on elocution more appro- 
priately form separate publications, nothing of the kind has been 
included in this volume. A summary of practical suggestions to 
teachers and students was thought to form a more useful introduc- 
tion. 

For the sake of artistic beauty in the page, as well as for the con- 
venience of the student, the notes and explanatory remarks necessary 
for the proper understanding of the pieces, have been thrown together 
at the end of the volume, and so arranged that reference to them can 
be easily made. 

This work, the preparation of which has been a recreation rather 
than a labor — an agreeable diversion from the daily routine of a 
laborious office, — is the embodiment of the experience and observa- 
tion of twenty-five years, with reference to this description of lite- 
rature. It originated in a desire to contribute something to the fur- 
therance of the right education of the young men of my country, 
and the extent to which it promotes this object, will in my estimation, 
be the measure of its success. 

Boston, July 4, 1864. 



CONTENTS. 



Introductory Remarks on Declamation 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 

PROSE. 

PAGB 

1. The Noble Purposes of Eloquence Lord Brougham 3 

2. Rolla to the Peruvians R- B. Sheridan 4 

3. Invective against Warren Hastings R. B. Sheridan 5 

4. The Bible the best Classic T. S. Grirnke 6 

5. What we owe to the Sword T. S. Grirnke 8 

6. Duty of Literary Men to their Country T. S. Grirnke 9 

7. America's Obligations to England Isaac Barre 11 

8. Webster's Plea for Dartmouth College C. A. Goodrich 12 

9. The Founders of Boston Pres. Quincy 14 

10. The American Sailor R. F. Stockton 16 

11. The Foundation of National Greatness W. E. Charming 17 

12. Intemperance W. E. Charming 18 

13. Inconsistent Expectations Mrs. Barbauld 19 

14. The Patriot's Sword vindicated T. F. Meagher 21 

15. On being found Guiltv of Treason T. F. Meagher 23 

16. Address to the American Troops at L. I Washington 24 

17. Character of Chatham H. Graltan 25 

18. The Press and the Union R. Choate 27 

19. American Literature and the Union -ft. Choate 28 

20. The Love of Reading -ft. Choate 29 

21. Eloquence of the American Revolution R. Choate 30 

22. Tribute to Webster R. Choate 32 

23. Skilful Labor and Cultivated Intellect R. Choate 33 

24. The Empire of Mind -ft. Choate 35 

25. The City of our Liberty R. Choate 36 

26. Specimen of the Eloquence of James Otis Mrs. L. M. Child 37 

27. Webster in the Dartmouth College Case G. 8. Hillard 38 

28. The Ambition of Webster G. S. Hillard 39 

29. The Danger of Exclusive Devotion to Business. . G. S. Hillard 40 

30. Speech in the Convention of Delegates of Virginia P. Henry 41 

31. The Same Concluded P. Henry 43 

32. Reply to the Duke of Grafton Lord Thurlow 44 

33. The Prospects of California Nathaniel Bennett 44 

34. In Prospect of War Robert Hall 46 

35. The American Indians J. Story 47 

86. Classical Learning J. Story 48 



vi CONTENTS. 

PAOK 

37. An Appeal in Behalf of Patriotism and Loyalty. J. Story 49 

38. Our Duties to the Republic J. Stovy 50 

39. Spartacus to the Gladiators E. Kellogg 52 

40. No Extension of Slave Territory R. C. Winthrop 54 

41. National Monument to Washington R. C. Winthrop 56 

42. The Perfect Orator Anonymous 57 

43. Necessity of a Pure National Morality L. Beecher 58 

44. On the Irish Disturbance Bill D. 0' Connell 59 

45. Caesar's Pause upon the Rubicon J. S. Knowles 60 

46. Gustavus Vasa to the Dalecarlians Anonymous 61 

47. Nobilitv of Labor 0. Dewey 62 

48. Salathiel to Titus G. Croly 63 

49. An Appeal to the Loyalty of South Carolina. ... A. Jackson 64 

50. The Same Concluded , A. Jackson 65 

51. Burr and Blennerhassett W. Wirt 66 

52. Cause for Indian Resentment W. Wirt 69 

53. Speech on the British Treaty F. Ames 70 

54. Speech against a Libeller Griffin 72 

55. New England and the Union S. S. Prentiss 74 

56. On sending Relief to Ireland S. S. Prentiss 75 

57. The New England Common School S. S. Prentiss 76 

58. Christianity the Source of Reform E. H. Chapin 78 

59. Northern Laborers C. Naylor 79 

60. Brougham's Attack on Canning described Anonymous 80 

61. South Carolina during the Revolution R. Y. Hayne 82 

62. Incompetency of Parliament W. C Plunkett 83 

63. Washington C. Phillips 85 

64. Education C. Phillips 86 

65. Character of Napoleon Bonaparte C Phillips 87 

66. A Collision of Vices G. Canning 88 

67. " Measures not Men " G. Canning 89 

68. Parliamentary Reform -. . . Lord Brougham 91 

69. Denunciation of Slavery Ijord Brougham 92 

70. The Teachers of Mankind Lord Brougham 93 

71. The Greatness of Washington Lord Brougham 95 

72. Washington a Man of Genius E. P. Whipple 96 

73. Irish Aliens and English Victories R. L. Sheil 97 

74. The Iliad and the Bible Dr. Wayland. 99 

75. On admitting California into the Union W. H. Seward. 100 

76. A Highway to the Pacific T. H. Benton 102 

77. Address to* Polish Exiles in London L. Kossuth 103 

78. Kossuth on his Credentials L. Kossuth 105 

79. The Ides of March L. Kossuth 106 

80. The Same Continued L. Kossuth 107 

81. The Same Continued L. Kossuth 109 

82. The Same Concluded L. Kossuth 110 

83. The Mayflower and the Pilgrims E. Everett. . Ill 

84. The Discovery of America E. Everett 112 

85. Adams and Jefferson E. Everett 113 

86. The Indian Chief to the White Settler . ; E. Everett 114 

87. The Men of u Seventy-Six " E. Everett 116 

88. The Same Concluded E. Everett 117 

89. Our Common Schools E. Everett 119 

90. Webster's greatest Parliamentary Effort E. Everett 120 

91. What Good will the Monument do ? E. Everett 122 

92. Emancipation of the Catholics of Ireland J. P. Curran 123 

93. The Public Informer J. P. Curran 124 

94. Red Jacket's Speech to the Missionary Cram 126 

95. Partition of Poland C J. Fox 127 

96. National Disgrace C J. Fox 128 

97. A Political Pause C.J. Fox 129 

98. Washington's Sword and Franklin's Staff J. Q. Adams 131 

99. The Right of Petition by Woman J. Q. Adams 132 



CONTENTS. vii 

PASS 

100. Value of Popularity Lord Mansfield 134 

101. Scorn to be Slaves J. Warren 135 

102. Loss of the Arctic H. W. Beecher 136 

103. The Glory and Grandeur of Peace C. Sumner 138 

104. Ancient and Modern Productions C. Sumner 139 

105. The Abolition of the Slave Trade W. Pitt 141 

106. " Let there be Light " H.Mann 143 

107. True Eloquence D. Webster 144 

108. South Carolina and Massachusetts D. Webster 145 

109. African Slave Trade D. Webster 147 

110. Supposed Speech of John Adams D. Webster 149 

111. The Same Concluded D. Webster 151 

112. Influence of the Character of Washington D. Webster 152 

113. Public Opinion D. Webster 154 

114. The Murderer's Secret D. Webster 155 

115. The Same Concluded D. Webster 156 

116. Defence of American Clergymen v . D. Webster 157 

117. Peaceable Secession impossible D. Webster 158 

118. Liberty and Union D. Webster 160 

119. Events Great, because of their Results D. Webster 161 

120. The Future of America D. Webster 163 

121. Liberty of Speech D. Webster 164 

122. Washington to the Present Generation D. Webster 165 

123. The Platform of the Constitution D. Webster 166 

124. The Veterans of the Battle of Bunker Hill D. Webster 168 

125. Reply to the Reflections of Mr. Walpole Lord Chatham 170 

126. Speech against the American War Lord Chatham 171 

127. Speech against Employing Indians in War .... Lord Chatham 172 

128. Honorable Ambition H. Clay 174 

129. The Noblest Public Virtue H. Clay 175 

130. Plea for the Union H. Clay 176 

131. National Glory H. Clay 178 

132. Brutus on the Death of Caesai Shakspeare 179 

133. Hamlet's Address to the Players Shakspeare 180 

134. Falstaff's Description of his Soldiers Shakspeare 181 

135. Soliloquy on Character Shakspeare 182 

136. Death of Hamilton Dr. Nott 183 

137. Invective against Mr. Flood H. Graitan 184 

138. Reply to Mr. Corry H. Graitan 187 

139. Speech of Titus Quinctius to the Romans Anonymous 188 

140. The Boston Massacre John Hancock 190 

141. Enterprise of New England E. Burke 191 

142. The Right of England to Tax America E. Burke 192 

143. Description of Junius E. Burke 193 

144. True Statesmanship E. Burke 194 

145. The Queen of France and the Spirit of Chivalry E. Burke 195 

146. Peroration of Opening Speech against Hastings E. Burke 196 

147. Peroration of Closing Speech against Hastings E. Burke 198 

148. The Crisis of the Nation Cicero 199 

149. Extract from Demosthenes Demosthenes 200 

150. Extract from Demosthenes on the Crown Demosthenes 202 

151. Queen Elizabeth J. Mackintosh 203 

152. The Free Press J. Mackintosh 205 

153. The Liberty of the Press Lord Erskine 206 

154. British Tyrannv in India Lord Erskine 207 

155. Declaration of Right H. Graitan 209 

156. Politics and Religion ' J. M. Mason 210 



viii CONTENTS. 



POETRY. 

PA01 

157. The Star Spangled Banner F. S. Key 211 

158. Aspirations of Youth J. Montgomery 212 

159. The Love of Country and of Home J. Montgomery 213 

160. The Bells E. A. Poe 214 

161. The Baven E. A. Poe 217 

162. Spirit of Patriotism Sir W. Scott 220 

163. Lochinvar Sir W. Scott 221 

164. Marmion taking leave of Douglas Sir W. Scott 222 

165. Highland War-Song Sir W. Scott 224 

166. David's Lament for Absalom N. P. Willis 225 

167. " Look not upon the Wine " N. P. Willis 226 

168. The Leper N. P. Willis 227 

169. Parrhasius and the Captive N. P. Willis 230 

170. Casabianca Mrs. Hemans 232 

171. The Bended Bow Mrs. Hemans 234 

172. The Better Land Mrs. Hemans 235 

173. Landing of the Pilgrim Fathers Mrs. Hemans 236 

174. Bernardo Del Carpio Mrs. Hemans 237 

175. Bernardo and King Alphonso J. G. Lockhart 240 

176. The Bridge of Sighs T. Hood 242 

177. Song of the Shirt T. Hood 245 

178. Look Aloft J. Lawrence 248 

179. Press On P. Benjamin 249 

180. Kindness Sergeant Talfourd. . 250 

181. How 's my Boy ? S. Bobell 251 

182. Excelsior H. W. Longfellow. . . 252 

183. A Psalm of Life H. W. Longfellow... 253 

184. The Launching of the Ship H. W. Longfellow. . . 255 

185. The Negro's Complaint W. Cowper 257 

186. Loss of the Royal George W. Cowper 259 

187. Slavery W. Cowper 259 

188. The Seminole's Reply G. W. Patten 261 

189. The Three Beats G. W. Patten 262 

190. The Battle of Ivry Lord Macaulay 263 

191. The Soldier from Bingen - Mrs. Norton 265 

192. " Give me three Grains of Corn, Mother" Miss Edwards 267 

193. Tell's Apostrophe to Liberty J. S. Knowles 269 

194. William Tell among the Mountains J. S. Knowles 270 

195. The Baron's Last Banquet A. G. Greene 271 

196. The Water Drinker E. Johnson 273 

197. Chamouni S. T. Coleridge 274 

198. How they brought the Good News R. Browning 277 

199. The Sword Miss Landon 279 

200. The Fireman Anonymous 280 

201. Speak Gently Anonymous ...: 281 

202. The Passions W. Collins ... 283 

203. New England J. G. Percival 285 

204. Song for Saint Cecilia's Day J. Bryden 287 

205. The Sailor's Song B.W. Proctor 289 

206. Napoleon J. Pierpont 290 

207. Warren's Address at Bunker Hill J. Pierpont 291 

208. Thanatopsis W. C. Bryant 292 

209. The African Chief. W. C Bryant 294 

210. The Battle-Field W. C. Bryant 296 

211. Hallowed Ground T. Campbell 298 

212. The Exile of Erin T. Campbell 300 

213. Lord Ullin's Daughter T. Campbell 301 

214. Fall of Warsaw T. Campbell 303 

215. Hohenlinden T. Campbell 305 



CONTENTS. ix 

PAGB 

216. War-Stag of the Greeks, 1822 T. Campbell 306 

217. The Flight of Xerxes Miss Jeivsbury 307 

21S. ( )ld Ironsides 0. W Holmes 308 

219. Charee of the Light Brigade A. Tennyson 309 

220. Arnold Winkelreid J. Montgomery .... 311 

221. New England's Dead /. M'Lellan 312 

222. Never Give Up Anonymous 314 

223. Marco Rozzaris F. G. I/alleck 314 

224. The American Flag T. R. Drake 317 

225. The Widow of Glencoe W. E. Aytoun 318 

226. Burial of Sir John Moore C Wolfe 321 

227. The Maniac Leiois 322 

228. Rienzi to the Romans Miss Mitford 324 

229. The Bell of the " Atlantic " Mrs. Siuourney 326 

230. The Struggle for Fame C Mac'kay. . .'. 328 

231. The Sailor-Boy's Dream Dimond 329 

232. Entry of the Austrians into Naples T. Moore 331 

233. Rattle Hymn of the Berlin Landsturm Korner 332 

234. The Main Truck, or a Leap for Life G. P. Morris 333 

235. Catiline on his Banishment G. Croly 334 

236. Apostrophe to the Ocean Lord Byron 335 

237. Rattle of Waterloo Lord Byron 337 

238. The Destruction of Sennacherib Lord Byron 339 

239. Speech of Moloch Milton 339 

240. Antony's Address to the'Romans Shakspeare 341 

241. Hamlet's Soliloquy Shakspeare 344 

242. Soliloquy of Hamlet's Uncle Shakspeare 345 

243. Perseverance keeps Honor bright Shakspeare 346 

244. Macbeth's Soliloquy Shakspeare 347 

245. Romeo in the Garden Shakspeare 348 

246. Polonius to Laertes Shakspeare 349 

247. Wolsey, on being cast off by the King Shakspeare 350 

248. Wolsey to Cromwell Shakspeare 351 

249. Griffith's Description of Wolsey Shakspeare 352 



RECENT SELECTIONS. 

PROSE. 

250. The Orators of Revolutions R. Choate 355 

251. The Eloquence of Revolutions R. Choate 356 

252. American Nationality R. Choate 358 

253. The Same Continued R. Choate 358 

254. The Same Concluded R. Choate 359 

255. The National Ensign R. C Winthrop 360 

256. The Cause R. C Winthrop 361 

257. The Assault on Charles Sumner A. Burlingame 363 

258. Strength of the Government T. Parsons 365 

259. The Higher Law : A. P. Peabody 366 

260. " Step to the Captain's Office and Settle " G. B. Cheever 367 

261. The Murder of the Soul R. Hildreth 368 

262. Judicial Tribunals C. Sumner 369 

263. The Mainspring of the Rebellion C. Sumner . 371 

264. Abolition of Slaverv in District of Columbia . . • C Sumner 372 

265. The Same Concluded C Sumner 374 



x CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

266. Farewell Address at New Orleans B. F. Butler 375 

267. Conclusion of Address at New Orleans B. F. Butler 376 

268. Reconstruction of the Union B. F. Butler 378 

iSO. Speech at the Union Square Meeting D. S. Dickinson 379 

270. The Perpetuity of the Union D. S. Dickinson 381 

271. Our Reformers J. C. Fremont 382 

272. Public Rumor R. H. Dana, Jr 383 

273. Enfranchisement of the North R. H. Dana, Jr 385 

274. The Education of the War G. Putnam 387 

275. Washington's Birthday, Feb. 22, 1864 G. Putnam 388 

276. Our Heroic Dead J. A. Andrew 390 

277. Honor to our Heroes J. A. Andrew 391 

278. The Significance of the Contest G. S. Hillard 393 

279. Military Capacity of the People A. L. Stone 394 

280. Limit of Human Dominion L. Swain 396 

281. The Battle of Civilizations W. Phillips 397 

282. Secession the Death of Slavery W. Phillips 399 

283. Commencement of Anti-slaverv Movement W.Phillips 400 

284. " Touch not Slaverv " , Carl Schurz 401 

285. Ohio G. Bancroft 403 

286. The Controversv A. Lincoln 404 

287. The Pretext of Rebellion S. A. Douglass 406 

288. No Neutrals; only Patriots or Traitors S. A. Douglass 407 

289. The Ordinance of Secession A. H. Stephens 408 

290. " Hireling Laborers " of the North *. . H. Wilson 410 

291. The Death of Slavery the Life of the Nation . . H. Wilson 412 

292. The Fanaticism of Massachusetts H. Wilson 414 

293. Defence of Massachusetts H. Wilson 41 5 

294. Emancipation H. C Deming 417 

295. Protection for Tennessee A. Johnson 418 

296- The Submissionists J. Holt 420 

297. Address to Kentucky Volunteers J. Holt 421 

298. The American Question in England G. Thompson 423 

299. Patriotism G. W. Curtis 425 

300. Political Morality G. W. Curtis 426 

301. Ideas the Life of a People G. W. Curtis 428 

302. The Same Concluded G. W. Curtis 429 

303. The War Policy of the President A. H. Bullock ... 430 

304. The Dutv of the Hour R. Johnson 432 

305. The first Gun fired at Sumter O. W. Holmes 433 

306. Our Country's Call O. W. Holmes 434 

307. Manhood and Country O. W. Holmes 435 

308. Our Country's greatest Glory Bishop Whipple 436 

309. Our National Anniversary A. H. Rice 438 

310. Southern Usurpations R. Busteed 439 

311. Monumental Honors E. Everett 440 

312. The Crime of the Rebellion E. Everett = . 441 

313. A Tribute to the Honored Dead H. W. Beecher 443 

314. On the Confiscation Bill L. Trumbull 445 

315. The Crittenden Compromise L. Trumbull 446 

316 Reply to Senator Breckinridge E.D.Baker 448 

317. Emancipation — Its Necessity and Justice G. S. Boutwell 449 

318. The Reconstruction of Louisiana N. P. Banks 451 

319. The Bible — Its Influence T. Parker 453 

320. The Bible — Its Deep and Lasting Power T. Parker 454 

321. Support of Government by Force S. K. Lothrop 455 



CONTENTS. xi 
POETRY. 

PAOX 

322. Our Country's Call W. C. Bryant 457 

323. Not Yet....* W. C. Bryant 459 

324. The American Flag G. W. Curtis 400 

325. Am I for Peace ? Yes Anonymous 461 

326. The Great Bell Roland T. Tilton 462 

327. The Massachusetts Line Robert Lowdl 46') 

328. On the Shores of Tennessee E. L. Beers 466 

329. A Battle Song of Freedom G. Hamilton 468 

330. The Voice of the North J. G. Whittier 470 

331. The Watchers J. G. Whittier 471 

332. Barbara Frietchie J. G. Whittier 473 

333. Fro Patria T. B. Aldrich 475 

334. The Cavalry Charge F. A. Durivaae 476 

335. The Cumberland H. W. Longfelbw ... 478 

336. United States National Anthem W. R. Wallace 480 

337. The Fisherman of Beaufort Mrs. F. D. Gage. ... 481 

338. The Flower of Liberty O. W. Holmes 482 

339. An Appeal 0. W. Holmes 383 

340. The Last Charge 0. W. Holmes 484 

341. Voyage of the Good Ship Union 0. W. Holmes 485 

342. The Stripes and the Stars E. D. Proctor 488 

343. Who 's Ready ? E. D. Proctor 489 

344. Mitchell W. F. Williams 490 

345. War Song W. W. Story 491 

346. The Black Regiment at Port Hudson G. H. Boker 493 

347. Forward J. Pierpont 496 



HUMOROUS SELECTIONS. 

PEOSE. 

348. Plea of Sergeant Buzfuz C. Dickens 499 

349. Mr. Puff's Account of Himself R. B. Sheridan 502 

350. Lyceum Speech of Mr. Orator Climax Anonymous 503 

351. Bullum vs. Boatum G. A. Stevens 505 

352. Pleading Extraordinary Anonymous 507 

353. Fuss at Fires Anonymous 509 

354. Mr. Pepperage's Peroration Anonymous 510 

355. Fourth of July Oration C. F. Brown 511 



POETRY. 



356. The Duel T. Hood 513 

357. Music for the Million T. Hood 515 

358. Ode to my Boy, aged three Years T. Hood 519 

359. The Height of the Ridiculous 0. W.Holmes 521 

360. The September Gale O. W. Holmes 522 

361. Love and Murder Anonymous 524 

362. The Removal Anonymous 526 

363. Nongtongpaw C Dibdin 527 

364. The Swell's Soliloquy on the War Vanity Fair 528 

365. The Alarmed Skipper J. T. Fields 529 

366. The Cold-Water Man J. G. Saxe 530 



xii CONTENTS. 



867. Whittling J. Pierpont 532 

368. Hotspur's Account of a Fop Shakspeare.^ 533 

369. How to have what we Like Horace Smith 535 

370. The three Black Crows Byrom 536 

371. Helps to Read Byrom 537 



STANDARD DIALOGUES. 

372. Prince Arthur of Bretagne Shakspeare 541 

373. Quarrel of Brutus and Cassius Shakspeare 546 

874. Dogberry's Charge Shakspeare 548 

375. Indigestion Anonymous 551 

376. The Two Robbers Dr. Aiken 553 

377. The Miser Fielding 555 

378. The Letter Anonymous 557 

379. The Frenchman's Lesson Anonymous 558 

380. How to tell Bad News Anonymous 559 

381. The Choleric Father R. B. Sheridan 561 

382. Rolla and Alonzo Kotzebue 564 

383. The English Traveller Anonymous 566 

384. The Embryo Lawyer Allingham 569 



INDEX OF AUTHORS. 



Page 

Adams, J. Q 131, 132 

Aiken, Dr 553 

Aldrich, J. B 475 

Allingham 569 

Ames, F 70 

Andrew, J. A 390, 391 

Anonymous . .57, 61, 80, 280, 281, 314, 

461, 503, 507, 509, 510, 524, 626, 

551, 557, 558, 559, 566. 
Aytoun, W. E 318 

Baker, E. D 448 

Bancroft, G 403 

Banks, N. P 451 

Barbauld, Mrs 19 

Barre, Isaac 11 

Beecher, U. W 136, 443 

Beecher, Lvman 58 

Benjamin, P 249 

Bennett, Nathaniel 44 

Benton, T. H 102 

Boker, G. H 493 

Boutwell, G. S 449 

Brown, C. F. (A. Ward) 511 

Browning, R 277 

Brougham, Lord 3, 91, 92, 93, 95 

Brvant, W. C. .292, 294, 296, 457, 459 

Bullock, A. H 430 

Burke, E. . .191, 192, 193, 194, 195, 196, 
198 

Burlingame, A 363 

Busteed, R 439 

Butler, B. F 375, 376, 378 

Byrom 536, 537 

Byron, Lord 335, 337, 339 

Campbell, T. . .298, 300, 301, 303, 305, 

306 

Canning, G 88, 89 

Charming, W. E 17, 18 

Chapin, E. H 78 

Chatham, Lord 170, 171,172 

Cheever, G. B 367 

Child, Mrs. L. M 37 

Choate, R. . .27, 28, 29, 30, 32, 33, 35, 

36, 355, 356, 358, 359 

Cicero 199 

Clay, H 174, 175, 176, 178 

Coleridge, S. T 274 

Collins, W 283 



Page 

Cowper, W 257, 259 

Cram, (Red Jacket) 126 

Crolv, G 63, 334 

Curran, J. P 123, 124 

Curtis, G. W. . . .425, 426, 428, 429, 460 

Dana, R. H. Jr 383, 385 

Darning, H. C 417 

Demosthenes 200, 202 

Dewey, 62 

Dibdin, C 527 

Dickens, C 499 

Dickinson, D. S 379, 381 

Dimond 329 

Dobell, S 251 

Douglass, S. A 406, 407 

Drake, J. R 317 

Dryden, J 287 

Duriv.age, F. A 476 

Edwards, Miss 267 

Erskine, Lord 206, 207 

Everett, E. Ill, 112, 113, 114, 116, 117, 
119, 120, 122, 440, 441 

Fielding 555 

Fields, J. T 529 

Fox, C. J 127, 128, 129 

Fremont, J. C 382 

Gage, Mrs. F. D 481 

Goodrich, C. A 12 

Grattan, H 25, 184, 187, 209 

Greene, A. G 271 

Griffin 72 

Grimke, T. S 6, 8, 9 

Hall, Robert 46 

Halleck, F.G 314 

Hamilton, G 468 

Hancock, John 190 

Hayne, R. Y 82 

Hemans, Mrs. . .232, 234, 235, 236, 237 

Henrv, P 41,43 

Hildreth, R 368 

Hillard, G. S 38, 39, 40, 393 

Holmes, O. W. 308, 433, 434, 435, 482, 
483, 484, 485, 521, 522 

Holt, J 420, 421 

Hood, T 242, 245, 513, 515, 519 



XIV 



INDEX OF AUTHORS. 



Page 

Jackson, A 64, 65 

Jewsbury Miss 307 

Johnson," A 418 

Johnson, E 278 

Johnson, R 432 

Kellogg, E 52 

Kev, F. S 211 

Knowles, J. S 60, 269, 270 

Kbrner 332 

Kossuth, L. . ..103, 105, 106, 107, 109, 

110 
Kotzebue 564 

Landon, Miss 279 

Lawrence, J 248 

Lewis 322 

Lincoln, A 404 

Lockhart, J. G 240 

Longfellow, H. W. . .252, 253, 255, 478 

Lothrop, S. K 455 

Lowell, R 465 

Macaulay, Lord 263 

Mackay, C 328 

Mackintosh, J 203, 205 

Mann, H 143 

Mansfield, Lord 134 

Mason, J. M 210 

M'Lellan, 1 312 

Meagher, T. F 21, 23 

Milton 339 

Mitford, Miss 324 

Montgomery, J 212, 213, 311 

Moore, T 331 

Morris, G. P 333 

Naylor, C 79 

Norton, Mrs 265 

Nott, Dr 183 

! 

O'Connell, D 59 

i 

Parker, T 453, 454 I 

Parsons, T. 365 ! 

Patten, G. W 261, 262 

Peabodv, A. P 366 

Percival, J. G 285 I 

Phillips, C 85, 86, 87 

Phillips, W 397, 399, 400 

Pierpont, J 290, 291, 495, 532 

Pitt, W 141 

Plunkett, W. C 83 

Poe, E. A 214, 217 

Prentiss, S. S 74, 75, 76 



Page 

Proctor, B. W. 289 

Proctor, E. D 488, 489 

Putnam, G 387, 388 

Quincy, Pres 14 

Rice, A. H 438 

Saxe, J. G 530 

Schurz,Carl 401 

Scott, Sir W 220, 221, 222, 224 

Seward, W. H 100 

Shakspeare . . . 179, 180, 181, 182, 341, 
344, 345, 346, 347, 348, 349, 350, 
351, 352, 533, 541, 545, 548 

Sheil, R. L 97 

Sheridan, R. B 4, 5, 502, 561 

Sigourney, Mrs 326 

Smith, H 535 

Stephens, A. H 408 

Stevens, G. A. . ; 505 

Stockton, R. F 16 

Stone, A. L 394 

Storv, J 47, 48, 49, 50 

Storv, W. W 491 

Sumner, C. . . 138, 139, 369, '371, 372, 

374 
Swain, L 396 

Talfourd, Sergeant 250 

Tennyson, A 309 

Thompson, G 423 

Thurlow, Lord 44 

Tilton, T 462 

Trumbull, L 445, 446 

Vanity Fair 528 

Wallace, W. R 480 

Warren, J 135 

Washington 24 

Wayland, F 99 

Webster, D. . . 144, 145, 147, 149, 151, 

152, 154, 155, 156, 157, 158, 160. 

161, 163, 164, 165, 166, 168 

Whipple, E. P 96 

Whipple, Bishop 436 

Whittier, J. G 470, 471, 473 

Williams, W. F 490 

Willis, N. P 225, 226, 227, 230 

Wilson, H 410, 412, 414, 415 

Winthrop, R. C 54, 56, 360, 361 

Wirt, W 66, 69 

Wolfe, C 321 



INTRODUCTORY REMARKS ON DECLAMATION. 



It is not my purpose to present here a theory of elocution, or a 
systematic treatise on the art of speaking. My object will be accom- 
plished if I succeed in furnishing a summary of practical suggestions 
and hints on the subject of declamation which shall prove useful both 
to students and to such teachers as have not made the study of elo- 
cution a specialty. 

That a correct and impressive elocution is a desirable attainment, 
few will venture to deny. In my judgment it is the crowning grace 
of a liberal education. To the highest success in those professions 
which involve public speaking, it is, of course, indispensable. No 
person, whatever is to be his destination in life, who aspires to a 
respectable education and to mingle in good society, can afford to dis- 
pense with this accomplishment. If a young man means to succeed 
in life and attain distinction and influence, he should spare no pains in 
the cultivation of the faculty of speech. The culture of his vocal 
organs should keep pace with the culture of his mental powers. While 
acquiring a knowledge of literature and science, he should also form 
the habit of speaking his vernacular with propriety, grace, ease, and 
elegance, sparing no effort to acquire what has been aptly called " the 
music of the phrase ; that clear, flowing, and decided sound of the 
whole sentence, which embraces both tone and accent, and which is 
only to be learned from the precept and example of an accomplished 
teacher." 

As a means of acquiring an appropriate, effective, and graceful elo- 
cution for the purposes of conversation, reading, and public speaking, the 
exercise of declamation, when properly conducted, cannot be too highly 
valued. It must be confessed, however, that the practice of declaiming 
as managed in some institutions, is comparatively useless, if not posi- 
tively injurious. Hence arises the prejudice against it which exists in 
some quarters. And it is not surprising that the results of declamation 
should be unsatisfactory, considering the defective methods of conduct- 
ing it, which are still prevalent in not a few places. What can be 



xvi INTRODUCTORY REMARKS 

expected of declamation which consists in repeating on the stage a few 
pieces, — injudiciously selected and imperfectly committed, — without 
previous or accompanying vocal training ? The remarks of Dr. Rush, 
on this topic, though made more than a quarter of a century ago, are 
still to some extent applicable. " Go to some, may I say all, of our col- 
leges and universities, and observe how the art of speaking is not taught. 
See a boy of but fifteen years sent upon the stage, pale and choking 
with apprehension, in an attempt to do that, without instruction, which 
he came purposely to learn ; and furnishing amusement to his class- 
mates, by a pardonable awkwardness, which should be punished in the 
person of his pretending but neglectful preceptor with little less than 
scourging. Then visit a conservatoire of music ; observe there the 
orderly tasks, the masterly discipline, the unwearied superintendence 
and the incessant toil to produce accomplishment of voice ; and after- 
ward do not be surprised that the pulpit, the senate, the bar, and the 
chair of the medical professorship are filled with such abominable drawl- 
ers, mouthers, mumblers, clutterers, squeakers, chanters, and mongers in 
monotony; nor that the schools of singing are constantly sending 
abroad those great instances of vocal wonder, who draw forth the 
intelligent curiosity and produce the crowning delight and approba- 
tion of the prince and the sage." 

This eminent writer's great work on the Philosophy of the Human 
Voice has done much to correct the evil which he so graphically 
described. There are now some schools and colleges to be found in 
which elocution is taught with much skill and success. 

Among the disciples of Dr. Rush who have most successfully cul- 
tivated the art of elocution in America, the foremost place belongs to 
Professor "William Russell, whose valuable and protracted labors in 
this department of education, both as an author and a practical in- 
structor, merit the highest commendation. 

As the first of my recommendations, I would, at the outset, strenu- 
ously insist on the importance of systematic vocal culture, which im- 
plies the training of the ear to perceive the various qualities and modi- 
fications of vocal expression, and the training of the voice to produce 
them. All the different functions of the voice employed in speech 
should be analytically exemplified by the teacher, and practised by 
the pupil, in the reading or recitation of short passages in which they 
are well illustrated, such as may be found in any good manual of 
elocution. This kind of teaching is to elocution what practice upon 
the scale is to music, and what the practice of the eye upon the har- 
mony and contrast of colors is to painting. 

This course of training naturally divides itself into two depart- 



ON DECLAMATION. xvii 

ments : — first, that which is mechanical ; and, secondly, that which 
relates to the expression of thought and emotion. 

I. THAT WHICH IS MECHANICAL. 

Breathing. The human voice is a musical instrument, — an organ 
of exquisite contrivance and adaptation of parts. Breath being the 
material of its sound, vocal training should begin with the function 
of breathing. Vigorous respiration is as essential to good elocution 
as it is to good health. To secure this it is necessary, in the first place, 
to attend to the posture, taking care to give the utmost freedom, ex- 
pansion, and capacity to the chest, and then to exercise and develop 
all the muscles employed in respiration, so that they may be habitually 
used with energy and power, both in the inhalation and expulsion of 
the breath. Whenever the voice is to be used in speaking, reading, 
singing, or animated conversation, the pupil should be required to 
assume the proper position, and to bring into exercise the whole mus- 
cular apparatus of the vocal organs, including the muscles of the 
abdomen, of the back, of the ribs, and of the chest. Elocutionary 
exercises, especially that of declamation, thus practised with a due 
regard to the function of breathing, become highly beneficial in a 
hygienic point of view, imparting health and vigor to the whole phys- 
ical system. The want of this kind of training is the cause of much 
of the bronchial disease with which clergymen and other public speak- 
ers are afflicted. In the excellent work on Elocution, by Russell and 
Murdock, the following exercises in breathing are prescribed and 
explained : — " Attitude of the body and position of the organs ; deep 
breathing ; diffusive or tranquil breathing ; expulsive or forcible breath- 
ing ; explosive or abrupt breathing ; sighing ; sobbing ; gasping ; and 
panting." 

Experience has proved that the respiratory organs are susceptible 
of a high degree of development, and it is well known that the strength 
of the voice depends on the capacity, health, and action of those 
organs. It is therefore of paramount importance that elocutionary 
culture should be based on the mechanical function of respiration. 
And while the elocutionist trains his pupils in such, breathing exer- 
cises as are above named, he is at the same time giving the very best 
part of physical education ; for the amount of vital power, as well a? 
the amount of vocal power, depends upon the health and vigor of the 
respiratory process. Few are aware how much may be effected by 
these exercises, judiciously practised, in those constitutions where the 
chest is narrow, indicating a tendency to pulmonary disease. In all 
such cases, regularly repeated deep inspirations are of the highest 
value. It should be observed that these exercises are best performed 



xviii INTRODUCTORY REMARKS 

in the open air, or, at least, in a well-ventilated room, the windows 
being open for the time. But no directions however wise or minute, 
can supersede the necessity of a competent teacher in this branch 
of physical and vocal training, and I cannot dismiss this topic without 
expressing my high appreciation of the value of the labors of that 
great master of the science of vocal culture, Prof. Lewis B. Monroe, 
of Boston, who is probably unsurpassed in this, or any other country, 
as a practical teacher of the mechanism and physiology of speech. 
Already the benefit of his instruction in this department of education 
is widely felt, and I omit no opportunity to advise teachers to avail 
themselves of a longer or shorter course of his admirable training. 
For if there is any accomplishment which a teacher should be unwilling 
to forego, it is that of skill in elocution. 

Articulation. A good articulation consists in giving to each letter 
its appropriate sound, and to each syllable and word an accurate, for- 
cible, and distinct utterance, according to an approved standard of 
pronunciation. 

This is what constitutes the basis of all good delivery. It has been 
well said that good articulation is to the ear what a fair hand or a clear 
type is to the eye. Austin's often-quoted description of a good articu- 
lation must not be omitted here. " In just articulation, the words 
are not to be hurried over, nor precipitated syllable over syllable; 
nor as it were melted together into a mass of confusion. They should 
be neither abridged nor prolonged, nor swallowed, nor forced ; they 
should not be trailed, nor drawled, nor let to slip out carelessly, so as 
to drop unfinished. They are to be delivered out from the lips as beau- 
tiful coins newly issued from the mint, deeply and accurately impressed, 
perfectly finished, neatly struck by the proper organs, distinct, in due 
succession, and of due weight." Good articulation is not only neces- 
sary to the speaker, as a condition of being heard and understood, but 
it is a positive beauty of delivery, for the elementary sounds of speech, 
when properly uttered, are in themselves both agreeable and impres- 
sive. For the attainment of this desirable accomplishment, three 
classes of exercises are necessary. 1. Upon the separate elementary 
sounds of the language, both vowels and consonants. 2. Upon their 
various combinations, both such as constitute syllables and such as 
do not, and especially the more difficult combinations of consonants ; 
and, 3. Upon words ; spelling them by sounds, that is, uttering the 
elementary sounds separately, and then the whole word. 

Respecting these exercises, Dr. Rush observes : — " When the ele- 
ments are pronounced singly, they may receive a concentration of 
organic effort, which gives them a clearness of sound, and a definite- 
ness of outline, if I may so speak, at their extremes, that make a fine 



ON DECLAMATION. 



xix 



preparation for a distinct and forcible pronunciation of the compounds 
of speech." By elementary sounds is here meant the forty-two sounds 
of the language which are represented by the twenty-six letters of the 
alphabet. They are represented in the following 



TABLE OF ELEMENTARY SOUNDS. 



1. c, eve. 

2. i, in. 

3. a, ale. 

4. c, end. 

5. a, air. 

6. a, and. 



1. p, rope. 

2. b, robe. 

3. /, safe. 

4. v, save. 

5. m, seem. 

6. to, way. 

7. t, feet. 

8. d, feed. 



VOWELS. 

7. a, arm. 

8. a, all. 

9. o, on. 

10. e, err. 

11. o, own. 

12. u, un. 

CONSONANTS. 

9. th> bath. 

10. th, bathe. 

11. s, buss. 

12. s, buzz. 

13. Z, feel. 

14. r, fear. 

15. n, seen. 

16. y, yea. 



13. o, move. 

14. ' m, full. 

15. tt, tune. 

16. i, isle. 

1 7. oi, oil. 

18. om, our. 



1 7. eft, etch. 

18. dg> (/) edge. 

19. shy rash. 

20. <7, (z^) rouge. 

21. k, rack. 

22. g, rag. 

23. n^, sing. 

24. h, hay. 



Pronounce the word eve, for example, slowly and distinctly, observing 
the sounds which compose the word, and the movements of the organs in 
producing them. Then enunciate singly the sound which the letter stand- 
ing on the left has in the word. When a distinct idea of each sound has 
been acquired, the practice on the separate elements may be continued 
without pronouncing the words. I have heard these sounds given with 
distinctness by children five or six years of age. Indeed they should 
always be taught with the alphabet. 

The next step in articulation proceeds with the combinations of the 
elementary sounds. The most common combinations of consonantal 
sounds in pairs are those represented in the following 



TABLE OF COMBINED CONSONANTS. 

pi If zm zn kr vd rth 

bl lv mp In pr zd nth 

fl It mf rn rp gd thz 

vl Id mt nt rb bz thr 

tl Is md nd rf vz thn 



xx INTRODUCTORY REMARKS 

dl lz mz ns rv dz lch 



si 


Ik 


pn 


nz 


rt 


gz 


rch 


zl 


lg 


fn 


P. r 


rd 


nk 


nch 


kl 


lm 


vn 


br 


rz 


ks 


nd g (J) 


gl 


In 


tn 


fr 


rk 


kt 


shr 


IP 


rm 


dn 


tr 


r g 


St 


ndg 



lb sm sn dr bd sp ndz 

When the simpler combinations have become familiar, the more 
difficult, consisting of three or four consonants, should be practised 
upon. Finally, words should be pronounced simply as words, giving 
attention solely to the articulation. Not that the first steps are expected 
to be perfect before the succeeding ones are attempted, but that atten- 
tion should be given to only one thing at a time, a grand maxim in 
education, when rightly understood. These exercises should be com- 
menced with the first steps in reading, and continued until the articu- 
lation is perfected, and the student has acquired facility as well as 
precision, grace as well as force, and distinctness and ease have been 
united and permanently secured. 

I would not be understood to affirm that the mode here pointed out 
is the only one by which a good articulation can be acquired. If a 
child is brought up among persons whose articulation is good, and if, 
from the earliest years, he is trained to speak with deliberation and 
distinctness, he will in most cases have a good articulation for conver- 
sational purposes, without special drilling on the elements. 

II. THAT WHICH RELATES TO THE EXPRESSION OF THOUGHTS 
AND FEELINGS, INCLUDING THE QUALITIES AND MANAGEMENT 
OF THE VOICE. 

This branch of vocal gymnastics comprises, first, the appropriate 
discipline of the voice for its formation and development, by strength- 
ening it, by extending its compass, and by improving its quality so 
as to render it full, sonorous, and agreeable ; and, secondly, the train- 
ing of the voice in those modifications which are used in the expression 
of thought and feeling, including all that variety of management which 
appears in the delivery of a good speaker. 

Strength. To secure the requisite strength of voice should be our 
first aim in a course of vocal culture. So important was this element 
of elocutionary training considered by the Athenians, that they had 
a class of teachers who were wholly devoted to it as a specialty. The 
zeal and perseverance of Demosthenes in correcting the natural defi- 
ciencies of his voice, have passed into a proverb. How he was accus- 
tomed to run up the steepest hills, and to declaim on the sea-shore, 
when the waves were violently agitated, in order to acquire strength 
of voice and force of utterance., is known to every school-boy. 



ON DECLAMATION. xxi 

If strength of voice is of paramount importance to the speaker, it 
is also an element which is very susceptible of cultivation. Professor 
Russell says, — " The fact is familiar to instructors in elocution, that 
persons commencing practice [in vocal gymnastics] with a very weak 
and inadequate voice, attain, in a few weeks, a perfect command of 
the utmost degrees of force." As has already been intimated, the 
strength of the voice depends directly upon the condition and use of 
the respiratory organs, including the larynx, and indirectly upon the 
general health and vigor of the whole physical system. The volume 
of breath which can be inhaled, and the force with which it can be 
expelled, determine the degree of energy with which vocal sounds are 
uttered. This fact affords a clear indication of the proper mode of 
developing the strength of the voice. It is evident that the exercises 
which have for their object the strengthening of the voice, should also 
be adapted to develop and perfect the process of breathing. The stu- 
dent should be frequently trained in set exercises in loud exclamations, 
pronouncing with great force the separate vowel sounds, single words, 
and whole sentences, and at the same time taking care to bring into 
vigorous action, all the muscular apparatus of respiration. Shouting, 
calling, and loud vociferation, in the open air, both while standing, and 
while walking or running, are, with due caution, effective means of 
acquiring vigor of utterance. Children when at play are instinctively 
given to vociferation, which should be permitted, whenever practi- 
cable. One of the most remarkable examples of the extent to which 
the power of voice may be developed, is that of the Rev. Mr. White- 
field, the celebrated itinerant preacher. Having listened to his 
preaching in the open air, in Philadelphia, on a certain occasion, Dr. 
Franklin found by computation, that he might well be heard by more 
than thirty thousand auditors. It is said that the habit of speaking 
gave to the utterance of Garrick so wonderful an energy, that even his 
under-key was distinctly audible to ten thousand people. Dr. Porter 
sums up this matter thus : — " The public speaker needs a powerful 
voice ; the quantity of Voice which he can employ, at least can employ 
with safety, depends on his strength of lungs ; and this again depends 
on a sound state of general health. If he neglects this, all other pre- 
cautions will be useless." 

Compass. When a person is engaged in earnest conversation, his 
voice spontaneously adopts a certain key or pitch. This is called the 
natural or middle key, and it varies in different persons. Pitt's voice, 
it is said, was a full tenor, and Fox's a treble. When a speaker is 
incapable of loud and forcible utterance on both high and low notes, his 
voice is said to be wanting in compass. Webster's voice was remarkable 
for the extent of its compass, ranging with the utmost ease, from the 



xxii INTRODUCTORY REMARKS 

highest to the lowest notes, required by a spirited and diversified 
delivery ; and such was said to be the versatility of Whitefield's vocal 
power, that he could imitate the tones of a female, or the infant voice, 
at one time, and at another, strike his hearers with awe, by the thunder 
of his under-key. 

The want of compass is more frequently the result of bad habits 
of speaking and imperfect training than of incapacity of the vocal 
organs. Mr. Murdock, the well-known actor and elocutionist, tells us 
that, by appropriate vocal training, he gained, within the space of 
some months, to such an extent, in power and depth of voice, as to add 
to its previous range a full octave ; and this improvement was made at 
a period after he supposed himself nearly broken down in health and 
voice, by over-exertion on the stage. 

A command of the low notes is essential to the fullest effect of 
impressive eloquence. The strongest and deepest emotions can be 
expressed only by a full, deep-toned utterance. Speaking on one key, 
with only slight variations, either above or below it, is perhaps the 
most common, and, at the same time, the most injurious fault both of 
declaimers and of public speakers. 

As a means of acquiring compass of voice, the student should pro- 
nounce with great force the vowel sounds on both the highest and 
lowest notes he can reach. This elementary drill should be followed 
by practice in reading and declaiming selections requiring the extreme 
notes of the compass. For practice on the low notes, passages should 
be selected expressing deep solemnity, awe, horror, melancholy, or deep 
grief. The following fine simile affords an excellent example for 
practice on the low notes : — 

" So when an angel, by divine command, 
With rising tempests shakes a guilty land, 
Such as of late o'er pale Brittania passed, 
Calm and serene he drives the furious blast ; 
And, pleased th' Almighty's orders to perform, 
■ Rides in the whirlwind and directs the storm." 

The development of the top of the voice requires practice upon 
passages expressing brisk, gay, and joyous emotions, and the extremes 
of pain, f tar, and grief . The following examples may serve as illus- 
trations : — 

Last came Joy's ecstatic trial: 

He, with viny crown advancing, 

First to the lively pipe his hand addressed : 

But soon he saw the brisk, awakening viol, 

Whose sweet entrancing voice he loved the best. 

They would have thought, who heard the strain, 



ON DECLAMATION. xxiii 

They saw, in Tempi's vale, her uative maids, 

Amidst the festal-sounding shades, 
To some unwearied minstrel dancing; 
While, as his flying fingers kissed the strings, 
Love framed with Mikth a gay fantastic round. 

Strike — till the last armed foe expires ; 
Strike — for your altars and your fires ; 
Strike — for the green graves of your sires, — 
God — and your native land! 

Quality. A voice may possess the properties we have considered, 
strength and compass, and yet be very far from perfection. It may be 
neither loud, nor round, nor clear, nor full, nor sweet. While, on the 
other hand, it may be hollow, or aspirated, or guttural, or nasal, or 
possibly it may be afflicted with a combination of these faults. 

As one of the most important conditions of success in the cultivation 
of the voice, it is necessary that the student should acquire a distinct 
conception of the qualities and characteristics of a good voice, as a 
standard, a beau-ideal, which he may strive to reach. This must be 
derived mainly from the illustrations of the teacher, or from listening 
to the speaking of an accomplished orator. No mere description is 
adequate to convey it to the learner without the aid of the living 
voice. And yet, such a quaint and charming description of both the 
negative and positive qualities of a good voice, as the following, from 
a colloquy between Professor Wilson and the Ettrick Shepherd, is 
worth studying : — 

North. (Professor Wilson.) 

" James, I love to hear your voice. An Esquimaux would feel 
himself getting civilized under it — for there 's sense in the very sound. 
A man's character speaks in his voice, even more than in his words. 
These he may utter by rote, but his ' voice is the man for a' that,' and 
betrays or divulges his peculiar nature. Do you like my voice, James ? 
I hope you do." 

Shepherd. (James Hogg.) 

" I wad ha'e kent it, Mr. North, on the tower o' Babel, on the day 
o' the great hubbub. I think Socrates maun ha'e had just sic a voice 
— ye canna weel ca 't sweet, for it is ower intellectual for that — ye 
canna ca 't saft, for even in its aigh notes there 's a sort o' birr, a sort 
o' dirl that betokens power — ye canna ca 't hairsh, for angry as ye 
may be at times, it 's aye in tune frae the fineness o' your ear for 
music — ye canna ca 't sherp, for it 's aye sae nat'ral — and flett it cud 
never be, gin you were even gi'en ower by the doctors. It 's maist the 



XXIV 



INTRODUCTORY REMARKS 



only voice I ever heard, that I can say is at ance persuawsive and 
commanding — you micht fear 't, but you maun love 't ; and there 's 
no a voice in all his Majesty's dominions, better framed by nature to 
hold communion with friend or foe." 

The quality of Voice to which I would here call special attention, 
is called pure tone, which, in its perfection, accompanied with strength 
and compass, comprises nearly all the requisites of a good voice. " True 
utterance and pure tone," says Professor Russell, " employ the whole 
apparatus of voice, in one consentaneous act, combining in one perfect 
sphere of sound, — if it may be so expressed, — the depth of effect 
produced by the resonance of the chest, the force and firmness im- 
parted by the due compression of the throat, the clear, ringing property, 
caused by the due proportion of nasal effect, and the softening and 
sweetening influence of the head and mouth." 

The orotund quality which is so effective in impassioned utterance, 
and in the expression of deep, forcible, and sublime emotions, is nothing 
more than pure tone increased in extent of volume, and in intensity 
of force. This modification of pure tone is very full, very round, very 
smooth, and very highly resonant or ringing. It is what Dr. Rush 
regarded as the highest perfection of speech-voice, and as the natural 
language of the highest species of emotion. Volume and energy are 
its distinguishing characteristics. The piece from Webster, on page 
160, is a good illustration of its use. 

In cultivating purity of tone, it is necessary, in the first place, to 
ascertain the elements of impurity, and their causes and remedies. 
To this negative process must be added the positive, namely — 
attention to the due and proportionate employment of all the vocal 
organs. Depth is increased by the expansion of the pharynx ; round- 
ness and volume are promoted by the enlargement of the oral cavity, 
especially its back part ; and smoothness is the result of the free vibration 
of the vocal chords, while resonance is produced by thfe proper expan- 
sion of the chest. 

Modulation. This has reference, not to the qualities of the voice itself, 
but to its management in delivery. It includes those modifications and 
variations which are requisite for the expression of thoughts and feel- 
ings, and are therefore denominated by some elocutionists, the elements 
of expression, in distinction from the elements of utterance, which we 
have already considered under the preceding heads. The principal 
expressive modifications of the voice, are pitch, force, rate, pause, and 
inflection. The voice should be exercised on these elements sepa- 
rately, till each can be produced in all its varieties and degrees. 

The middle pitch, or key-note, is that of common discourse, but by 



ON DECLAMATION. xxv 

practice it may be rendered effective in public speaking. Neglect to 
cultivate and develop the power of speaking on this key, often leads 
speakers to adopt the high, shouting note, which is heard so commonly, 
and with so much disapprobation, at exhibitions of declamation. Every 
one can speak on a high key, although without training few can do 
it pleasingly ; but command over the low notes of the voice is a rare 
accomplishment, and an unequivocal characteristic of the finished 
speaker. It is well to pay some attention to the very high and very 
low notes, not so much for their own utility in public speaking as for 
the purpose of giving strength and firmness to the notes which are 
intermediate between the natural pitch and either extreme, and which 
an 1 designated as simply high and low, without any qualifying term. 
After accustoming the ear and voice to the different notes, the student 
should learn to make sudden transitions from one key to another. 

Force. The principal degrees of force requiring attention, are 
three : the moderate, the declamatory, and the impassioned. The 
degrees lower than moderate are, the suppressed and the subdued ; 
and those higher than impassioned are, shouting and calling. But these 
are not very important in practical delivery. 

Rate has reference to the kinds of movement in delivery, including 
the rapid, the moderate, and the slow. Mrs. Siddons's primary rule 
for good reading was, " take time." Excessive rapidity of utterance 
is, undoubtedly, a very prevalent fault, both in speaking and in con- 
versation. Deliberate speech is usually a characteristic of culture and 
good - breeding. This excellence is greatly promoted by giving due 
quantity, or prolongation of sound, to the vowels. 

Pauses. Besides the pauses required by the syntactical structure 
of the sentence, and denoted by grammatical punctuation, there are 
the pauses of passion, and the pauses at the termination of the clusters 
into which words are grouped in good speaking. 

The pauses of emotion occur in impassioned delivery. They usually 
consist in lengthening the stops indicated by the punctuation marks, 
especially those of the points of exclamation and interrogation, and 
the dash. Pauses of this description constitute one of the most im- 
portant of the elements of emphatic expression, and yet they are, 
by many speakers, altogether neglected, or so abridged as to destroy 
their effect. The young student is particularly apt to disregard them. 

The pauses lohick mark the grouping of words according to the sense, 
and afford rests for taking breath, should generally be introduced before 
the nominative, if it consists of several words, or if it is one important 
word ; before and after an intermediate clause ; before the relative ; 
before and after clauses introduced by prepositions ; before conjunc- 
tions; and before the infinitive mood, if any words intervene betwixt 
it and the word governing it. 



XXVI 



INTRODUCTORY REMARKS 



Inflections. The two chief inflections or slides are the rising and 
the falling. The voice, when properly managed, usually rises or falls 
on each emphatic syllable. These upward and downward movements 
of the voice are what we mean by inflections. The student should 
practice on them till he can inflect with ease and in a full sonorous 
voice. Persons who are deficient in tune do not readily perceive the 
difference between the rising slide and loudness of voice, or the fall- 
ing and softness. It is a very useful exercise to pronounce the long 
vowel sounds giving to each first the rising then the falling slide. The 
prolongation of these sounds is most profitably connected with the 
slides, the voice being thus strengthened in its whole range of compass, 
and, at the same time, accustomed to utter the musical sounds of speech 
•with due quantity. In inflecting the vowels, the voice, in order to rise, 
begins low ; and, in order to fall, it begins high. 

The rising and falling slides combined form the circumflex, or wave, 
which is a very impressive and significant modification of the voice. 
It is chiefly used in sarcasm, raillery, irony, wit, and humor. It well 
deserves careful study and practice. 

The monotone, is the repetition of nearly the same tone on successive 
syllables, resembling the repeated strokes of the bell. This element 
belongs to very grave delivery, especially where emotions of awe, sub- 
limity, grandeur, and vastness are expressed, and is peculiarly adapted 
to devotional exercises. The following example well illustrates its 
use : — 

" He bowed the heavens also, and came down ; and darkness was 
under his feet, — And he rode upon a cherub and did fly ; yea, he did 
fly upon the wings of the wind. He made darkness his secret place ; 
his pavilion round about him were dark waters, and thick clouds of 
the skies." 

In practical delivery, the elements of expression are never used 
independently of each other, two or three being always combined, even 
in the utterance of the shortest passage. The perfection of vocal 
training, therefore, requires a command, not merely of each individual 
modification of the voice, but of all their numerous combinations. The 
following example requires the union of declamatory force, low pitch, 
slow rate, monotone, and orotund quality : — 

" High on a throne of royal state, which far 
Outshone the wealth of Ormus and of Ind, 
Or where the gorgeous East with richest hand, 
Showers on her kings barbaric pearl and gold, 
Satan exalted sat." 

What has been said thus far, relates wholly to preparatory training 
in the elements of elocution. I have dwelt upon this theoretical depart- 



ON DECLAMATION. xxvii 

ment of my subject, because of its transcendent importance. But I 
do not mean to imply, in anything that has been presented, that the 
pupil should be confined exclusively to this disciplinary drill, for a long 
period, without attempting practical exercises in reading and decla- 
mation. On the contrary, I would recommend that this practice on 
the vocal and expressive elements be carried forward together with 
practice in speeding pieces. Exercises in vocal gymnastics, such as 
I have now indicated, should be commenced with the first stages of 
education, and continued, with gradations adapted to the age and 
progress of the pupil, through the whole course of instruction, whether 
longer or shorter. The value of thorough elementary training is well 
illustrated by the following anecdote respecting the education of the 
ear and the singing voice : — 

" Porpora, one of the most illustrious masters of Italy, having con- 
ceived a friendship for a young pupil, exacted from him the promise that 
he would persevere with constancy in the course which he should mark 
out for him. The master then noted upon a single page of ruled paper, 
the diatonic and chromatic scales, ascending and descending ; the inter- 
vals of third, fourth, fifth, &c. This eternal page occupied master and 
pupil until the sixth year, when the master added some lessons in 
articulation and declamation. At the end of this year, the pupil, who 
still supposed himself in the elements, was much surprised when Por- 
pora said to him, * Go, my son, you have nothing more to learn ; you 
are the first singer of Italy, and of the world.' The master had spoken 
the truth, for this singer was Caffarelli, the greatest singer of the 
eighteenth century." 

EXPRESSION. 

This term is used here, not in its limited and technical meaning, but 
in its largest sense, as a convenient one to denote the practical appli- 
cation of the principles of vocal culture which I have recommended. 
We will suppose the student to be thoroughly trained in enunciation, 
that his utterance is distinct and his pronunciation is correct, and that 
his voice is fully developed and well modulated. The question now 
arises, How is he to be guided in the right use of his powers of speech 
in the delivery of a given piece ? On this point there is a wide differ- 
ence of opinion among writers on elocution. On the one hand there 
are those who contend that, in the delivery of every sentence, the 
application of emphasis, pause, pitch, inflection, &c, should be gov- 
erned by definite rules. In accordance with this theory, they have 
formed complex systems of elocutionary rules, for the guidance of 
pupils in reading aloud and in declamation. On the other hand, there 
are authorities of eminence, who regard all specific rules for the man- 



xxviii INTRODUCTORY REMARKS 

agement of the voice in speaking as not merely useless, but positively 
injurious. Most prominent among the latter class is Archbishop 
Whately, who, in speaking of the method of teaching expressive 
delivery by rules, says : — " Such a plan not only directs us into a 
circuitous and difficult path, towards an object which may be reached 
by a shorter and straighter, but also in most instance* completely fails 
of that very object, and even produces oftener than not, effects the 
very reverse of what was designed." Reprobating very emphat- 
ically all systematic attention to elocution as an art, this eminent 
author advocates what he calls the natural manner of speaking, for the 
attainment of which he prescribes the rule, " not only to pay no 
studied attention to the voice, but studiously to withdraw the thoughts 
from it, and to dwell as intently as possible on the sense, trusting to 
nature to suggest spontaneously the proper emphasis and tones." 

The true course seems to me to lie midway between these two oppo- 
site extremes. While it is useless to attempt to reduce to exact 
system all the modifications of voice to be employed in the delivery 
of both plain and rhetorical language, still there are many important 
elocutionary rules and principles which are eminently useful for the 
guidance of the student. Because Walker fell into the error of 
attempting to carry his principles too far, and perplexed the student 
with an endless list of rules, it does not follow that all rules should be 
disregarded. His rules for inflections are, no doubt, too complex 
and artificial for ordinary instruction in elocution, but those found in 
the works of Dr. Porter and Professor Russell are calculated to afford 
important aid; and Professor Mark Bailey, in his Introduction to 
" Hillard's Sixth Reader," has still further simplified the subject. 
The following principles which he lays down for regulating the in- 
flections are at once comprehensive and practical. 

" The ' rising ' and ' falling ' slides separate the great mass of ideas 
into two distinct classes ; the first comprising all the subordinate, or 
incomplete, or, as we prefer to name them, the negative ideas ; the 
second comprising all the principal, or complete, or, as we call them, 
the positive ideas. 

" The most important parts of what is spoken or written, are those 
which affirm something positively, such as the facts and truths asset'ted, 
the principles, sentiments, and actions enjoined, with the illustrations, 
and reasons, and appeals, which enforce them. All these may properly 
be grouped into one class, because they all should have the same kind 
of slide in reading. This class we call ' positive ideas.' 

" So all the other ideas which do not affirm or enjoin anything posi- 
tively, which are circumstantial and incomplete, or in open contrast with 
the positive, all these ideas may be properly grouped into another single 



ON DECLAMATION. xxix 

class, because they all should have the same kind of slide. This class 
we call ' negative ideas.' 

" Positive ideas should have the falling slide ; Negative ideas should 
have the rising slide. 

" All sincere and earnest, or, in other words, all upright and downright 
ideas demand the straight, or upright and downright slides. 

" All ideas which are not sincere or earnest, but are used in jest, or 
irony, in ridicule, sarcasm, or mockery, in insinuation or double-mean- 
ing, demand the crooked or circumflex slides." 

These rules taken in connection with the accompanying brief but 
clear and precise explanation of the meaning attached to the words 
positive and negative, constitute the most admirable generalization that 
I have met with in elocutionary works of more recent date than that 
of Dr. Rush. And, indeed, Professor Bailey's whole treatment of 
that part of elocution now under consideration, is the best illustration 
I can name of the middle course which I recommend. Avoiding alike 
the ultra " artificial " system of Walker, and the ultra " natural " 
system of Whately, he combines in his instruction the excellencies of 
both, without their faults. He is both philosophical in his theory, and 
practical in its application. He attempts only what is practicable. He 
insists on analysis, but his analysis is at once simple and comprehensive. 
He classes the different kinds of composition with respect to the 
emotions, as follows, — 1. Unemotional ; 2. Bold ; 3. Animated or 
joyous ; 4. Subdued or pathetic ; 5. Noble ; 6. Grave ; 7. Ludicrous or 
sarcastic, 8. Impassioned, — and then indicates the modifications of 
voice appropriate for each. 

Now such a course of training based on such principles, especially 
if pursued under a competent instructor, cannot fail to be highly bene- 
ficial. Experience has proved it. Whately is evidently in error in 
wholly proscribing attention to the voice in speaking. In learning to 
dance, the pupil must pay attention to the motions of his limbs, but 
when practice has made the movements familiar, his mind is withdrawn 
from them. They then become natural. Just so with the student of 
elocution. In his disciplinary exercises he must attend to his voice. He 
must become accustomed to the correct application of tones and in- 
flections in the delivery of passages which illustrate them. But when 
he comes to practical delivery, then the mind should be withdrawn from 
the manner of utterance, and concentrated intensely upon the matter, 
— the thoughts and feelings to be expressed. In private rehearsals, 
the management of the voice will be a very prominent object of atten- 
tion. Declamation is a sort of transition stage, or intermediate exer- 
cise between private rehearsal and practical delivery at the bar, in 
the pulpit, or on the platform, and will require more or less attention 



xxx INTRODUCTORY REMARKS 

to the voice, in proportion to the progress already made by the pupil. 
Judicious practice will gradually carry him to that point where he will 
wholly cease to think of his manner, and become entirely absorbed 
in his subject. He then becomes natural. But even the most accom- 
plished orator must occasionally give some thought to his voice. When 
he rises to address an audience in a new place he must consider the 
circumstances, — the capacity of the apartment, the nature and temper 
of his auditors, &c., and pitch his voice accordingly. In other words, 
the speaker must on all occasions give a general attention to his voice, 
— sufficient, at least, to adapt it to the requirements of the position in 
which he is placed, modifying it in the progress of the discourse, as 
the necessity of the case demands. If the matter of his discourse is 
very familiar, the skilful speaker may greatly augment the effective- 
ness of his delivery by more particular attention to the manner, 
while he will seem wholly absorbed in the spirit and sense of what 
he utters. 

GESTURE. 

The limited space allotted to this introduction will not permit a full 
discussion of this topic, and I must content myself with presenting a 
few general observations concerning it. 

The little child, in the unconscious freedom of childhood, before his 
actions and manners have been modified by the restraints of artificial 
life, affords the best model of gesture. His instinct prompts him to 
that visible expression of his thoughts and feelings 

" Which we are toiling all our lives to find." 

And it may be assumed as a general fact, that external expression, 
unless repressed by habit or design, usually corresponds with internal 
emotion. The great desideratum in gesture is to make the visible 
expression in delivery harmonize with the audible, or, as Shakspeare 
has it, to " suit the action to the word, and the word to the action." 

Professor Russell, in his excellent analysis of this subject says, " The 
true speaker must have a true manner ; and of the five great attributes 
of genuine expression in attitude and action, truth stands first, fol- 
lowed by firmness, force, freedom, and propriety. Grace, 
which is sometimes added as a sixth, is, in all true manly eloquence, 
but another name for the symmetry which flows from appropriateness ; 
and, in masculine expression, should never be a distinct object of at- 
tention." 

In order to speak well, the orator must be able to stand well, that is, 
he should assume a firm but easy and graceful attitude, the weight of 
the body resting principally on one foot. The distance between the 



ON DECLAMATION. xxxi 

feet should be such as to give both Jirmness and freedom to the posi- 
tion. One foot should be in advance of the other, the toes being 
turned outward. The attitude should vary with the thoughts and emo- 
tions expressed. Unemotional thoughts require an attitude of repose, 
the body resting on the retired foot. Bold and impassioned language 
requires the reverse of this. The body is thrown forward, resting on 
the foot advanced. In turning from side to side, the toes should be 
kept apart and the heels together. 

The principal feature of bodily action consists in the proper use of 
the hands. " Have not," says Qnintilian, " our hands the power of 
exciting, of restraining, of beseeching, of testifying approbation, ad- 
miration, and shame ? Do they not, in pointing out places and persons, 
discharge the duty of adverbs and pronouns? So amidst the great 
diversity of tongues pervading all nations and peoples, the language of 
the hands appears to be a language common to all men." We stretch 
forth and clasp the hands when we importunately entreat, sue, beseech, 
supplicate, or ask mercy. To put forth the right hand spread open 
is the gesture of bounty, liberality, and a free heart ; and thus we 
reward, and bestow gifts. Placing with vehemence the right fist in 
the left palm is a gesture commonly used to mock, chide, insult, re- 
proach, and rebuke. To beckon with the raised hand is a universal 
sign of craving audience and entreating a favorable silence. To wave 
the hand from us, the palm outward, is the gesture of repulsion, aver- 
sion, dismissal. To shake the fist at one signifies anger and defiance 
and threatening. The hands are clasped or wrung in deep sorrow, 
and outstretched with the palms inward to indicate welcoming, approv- 
ing, and receiving. In shame, the hand is placed before the eyes ; in 
earnestness and ardor, the hands reach forward ; in joy, they are thrown 
up, widely apart; in exultation and triumph, the right hand is waved 
above the head. 

" In the rhetorical actions of the hand, the happy medium ought to 
be observed ; for the action of the hand should be full of dignity and 
magnanimous resolution, making it a liberal index of the mind." A 
French writer admirably remarks that we should move the arms be- 
cause we are animated, but not try to appear animated by moving the 
arms. 

The countenance, especially the eye, should be made to speak as 
well as the tongue. It is said of Chatham, that such was the power 
of his eye, that he very often cowed down an antagonist in the miist 
of his speech, and threw him into confusion. It is through the eye, 
scarcely less than through the tones of voice, that intercourse of 
soul is carried on between the speaker and hearers. To secure this 
intercourse the speaker should let his soul beam from his eye. Nor 



xxxii INTRODUCTORY REMARKS 

should he fail to look at his hearers, if he would have his hearers look 
at him. Among the faults to be avoided in the management of the 
eye, Dr. Porter notices particularly that unmeaning look which the 
eye " bent on vacuity " has, resembling the inexpressive glare of the 
glass eve of a wax figure ; that indefinite sweep of the eye which ranges 
from one side to the other of an assembly, resting nowhere ; and that 
tremulous,. roving cast of the eye, and winking of the eyelid, which is 
in direct contrast to an open, collected, manly expression of the face. 

Among the faults of action to be noticed are : — 1. Want of action ; 
2. Want of expression of countenance ; 3. A stiff, or a careless, attitude ; 
4. Want of appropriateness ; 5. Excess of motions of the hands and 
arms ; 6. Too great violence of action ; 7. Too great complexity ; 8. A 
mechanical uniformity; 9. Tardiness, the action following the utterance, 
when it should accompany it, or slightly precede it. 

It must not be supposed that it is necessary for the pupil to receive 
training in a technical system of gesticulation before he commences 
his exercises in declamation. If the student designs to qualify himself 
to be a professor of elocution, he will need to study the laws of gesture 
in " Austin's Chironomia," and be instructed in their application by a 
skilful teacher. But this course is neither practicable nor necessary 
for the mass of students. Instruction in this department should gen- 
erally be of a negative nature, and qpcupy itself mainly in the correc- 
tion of faults. When the pupil commences his exercises in declama- 
tion, the less said about action the better. Freedom is the first thing 
to be secured, and, to attain this end, few directions should be given 
and few criticisms be made, at the outset. When the speaker has 
acquired some confidence, and freedom of action, his faults may be 
gradually pointed out, and his attention called to some general princi- 
ples of gesture, such as have been presented respecting the language 
of the hands. Pupils should be taught to observe accurately the action 
of accomplished orators, not with the view to imitating their peculiari- 
ties, but to learn their method of producing effect by means of atti- 
tude and gesture. 

DECLAMATION. 

Declamation should be attended to in all grades of educational insti- 
tutions, from the primary school to the college, and every pupil should 
be required to take his turn in the performance of the exercise. It 
wftuld be highly beneficial, if well taught. The reason why so many 
teachers have no taste for it, is because they have not taken pains to 
qualify themselves to teach it. Want of time is sometimes offered as 
an excuse for neglecting it. But if a part of the time which is devoted 
to teaching reading, were appropriated to declamation, the progress 



ON DECLAMATION. xxxiii 

in reading itself would be more rapid, to say nothing of other advan- 
tages which would result from this course. I cannot too earnestly urge 
upon every teacher the importance of qualifying himself for teaching 
well both reading and declamation. There is no accomplishment which 
more effectively promotes the success of the teacher than that of elocu- 
tionary culture, — a good voice skilfully managed in conversation and 
in teaching. Without special attention to the subject, teachers are apt 
to acquire certain characteristic faults of voice, such as nasality, sharp 
ness, harshness, and thinness of tone, of which they are quite uncon- 
scious. Whereas, by constant attention to the manner of using the 
voice, since they are in constant practice, it might be perfected in its 
modulation. For want of culture in the elocutionary art, many teachers 
are greatly deceived, thinking their pupils read and declaim well when 
they do not. 

In the management of declamation much care should be taken in 
the selection of the pieces. It is best for the pupil, in the first place, 
after proper advice, to exercise his own taste in the selection of his 
piece, which should then be submitted to the teacher for approval. 
If the selection is very appropriate, the pupil should be commended 
and told why the piece is considered suitable. If the selection pre- 
sented is not suitable, the pupil should be informed on what ground it 
is objected to, so as to aid his judgment in another attempt. If the 
pupil has made proper effort without success, he should be assisted by 
the teacher. It is very important that the selection should be suited to 
the capacity and progress of the pupil. Beginners should take simple 
pieces, and not be allowed, as is sometimes the case, to murder a pas- 
sage from Paradise Lost, or Macbeth. Sometimes a fault is committed 
on the part of the teacher, by permitting a pupil to confine his selec- 
tions to one favorite class. I have observed in certain schools, that 
one particular boy would always appear in a comic piece, another in 
a tragic, and so on. It would be better for the teacher to require 
each pupil to speak a variety of pieces, so as to secure a more general 
and comprehensive culture than would result from practice on a single 
class of selections. 

The choice of the piece should be determined upon a considerable 
period previous to the day appointed for the public performance on 
the stage, so as to afford ample time for preparation. The piece should 
be accurately committed to memory, without the variation of a syllable. 
It should be made familiar, so that in the delivery no effort will be 
required in recalling it. The young pupil should be instructed in the 
best method of learning his piece. It will generally be found best to 
take one sentence at a time. The teacher's chief work consists in at- 
tending to individual private rehearsals. The rehearsal should be a 



xxxiv INTRODUCTORY REMARKS 

drill. The piece should be analyzed more or less minutely, the allu- 
sions and difficult points being explained. It should be the first aim 
to make the pupil understand it, not only in its general spirit and 
scope, but in its particular ideas. His attention should then be turned 
to the emotions which it expresses. Let it be remembered that the 
paramount object should be to make the pupil understand the meaning 
and feel the spirit of the piece. If he is timid and diffident he should 
be encouraged. Tell him that oven Daniel Webster could not make 
a declamation at the first attempt ; but that he did not despair ; he 
did not cease his efforts ; he persevered and succeeded. 

After the rehearsal, the pupil should have time to practice by him- 
self and apply and confirm rae instruction received from his teacher. 
It must be impressed upon his mind that if he would attain excellence 
he must practice, practice, practice. He must be made to understand 
that the repetition of a piece three or four times is no adequate prep- 
aration, and that it is necessary to go over with it twenty, thirty, or 
fifty times, if he would excel, and take a high rank. 

When the declamation takes place, excepting on public occasions, 
the criticisms ought to be made immediately after the performance of 
each speaker. The faults of the diffident should be mildly criticized. 
It is very important to call attention to points of special excellence in 
any performance. It should be remembered that judicious commend- 
ation is a most powerful stimulant to exertion. 

The most difficult task in teaching declamation is to develop that 
indescribable fervor, that unaffected earnestness of manner which 
always captivates the hearers, and wins the highest marks at an exhib- 
ition for prizes. There will always be one speaker in a school who 
excels all the rest in this quality. The teacher should point out the 
peculiar excellence of this speaker, and show wherein it differs from 
loudness of voice, and violence of action, and affected passion. Let 
it be remembered that the perfection of declamation consists in de- 
livering the piece as though it were real speaking. The speaker must 
" put himself, in imagination, so completely into the situation of him 
whom he personates, and adopt for the moment, so perfectly, all 
the sentiments and views of that character, as to express himself ex- 
actly as such a person would have done, in the supposed situation." 
Give the speaker every other quality — let his enunciation, his modu- 
lation of voice, and his action be faultless, and yet without earnestness, 
real earnestness, — not the semblance of it, not boisterous vociferation, 
not convulsive gesticulation, but genuine emotion felt in the heart, car- 
rying the conviction to the hearers that the sentiments uttered are 
real, the spontaneous, irrepressible outpouring of the thought and feel- 
ing of the speaker, — without this sovereign, crowning quality, he 



ON DECLAMATION. xxxv 

oannot be said to speak with eloquence. To bring out and develop 
this highest quality of delivery, requires the highest skill in the teacher. 
Unless the teacher possesses some degree of this quality himself, he 
cannot develop it in his pupils. 

The best immediate preparation for speaking is rest. I have often 
noticed that speakers at exhibitions have in many cases failed to do 
themselves justice from sheer exhaustion. A day or two of repose 
previous to speaking, enables the speaker to bring to the performance 
that vigor" of the faculties which is indispensable to the highest success. 
Webster told the Senate, and truly, no doubt, that he slept soundly on 
the night previous to the delivery of his second speech on Foote's reso- 
lution, which is considered his greatest parliamentary effort. It is 
well for the speaker to remember what Mr. Everett said in allusion to 
this fact : " So the great Conde slept on the eve of the battle of Rocroi, 
so Alexander slept on the eve of the battle of Arbela, and so they 
awoke to deeds of immortal fame." 

The best training cannot make good readers and good speakers of 
all pupils, but it can do much. And it is a fact worthy of observation 
that those who are most sceptical as to the possibilities of elocutionary 
culture, are invariably those who are themselves unskilful teachers in 
this branch. 



BOOK FIRST, 



STANDARD SELECTIONS 

FOR 

RECITATION AND DECLAMATION 
IN PROSE AND POETRY. 



BOOK FIRST. 



STANDARD SELECTIONS, 

PROSE. 



i. 

THE NOBLE PURPOSES OF ELOQUENCE. 

TF we consider the noble purposes to which Eloquence may be 
made subservient, we at once perceive its prodigious import- 
ance to the best interests of mankind. The greatest masters of 
the art have concurred, upon the greatest occasions of its display, 
in pronouncing that its estimation depends on the virtuous and 
rational use made of it. 

It is but reciting the common praises of the Art of Persuasion, 
to remind you how sacred truths may be most ardently promul- 
gated at the altar — the cause of oppressed innocence be most 
powerfully defended — the march of wicked rulers be most tri- 
umphantly resisted — defiance the most terrible be hurled at the 
oppressor's head. In great convulsions of public affairs, or in 
bringing about salutary changes, every one confesses how impor- 
tant an ally eloquence must be. But in peaceful times, when the 
progress of events is slow and even as the silent and unheeded 
pace of time, and the jars of a mighty tumult in foreign and 
domestic concerns can no longer be heard, then, too, she flour- 
ishes — protectress of liberty — patroness of improvement — 
guardian of all the blessings that can be showered upon the mass 
of human kind ; — nor is her form ever seen but on ground con- 
secrated to free institutions. 

To me, calmly revolving these things, such pursuits seem far 
more noble objects of ambition than any upon which the vulgar 
herd of busy men lavish prodigal their restless exertions. To 
diffuse useful information, to further intellectual refinement, 



4 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

sure forerunner of moral improvement, — to hasten the coming 
of the bright day when the dawn of general knowledge shall 
chase away the lazy, lingering mists, even from the base of the 
great social pyramid ; — this indeed is a high calling, in which the 
most splendid talents and consummate virtue may well press on- 
ward, eager to bear a part. Lord Brougham. 



ii. 
ROLL A TO THE PERUVIANS. 

~jVT Y brave associates — partners of my toil, my feelings, and 
"^ my fame ! Can Rolla's words add vigor to the virtuous 
energies which inspire your hearts ? — No ! You have judged, 
as I have, the foulness of the crafty plea, by which these bold 
invaders would delude you. Your generous spirit has compared, 
as mine has, the motives which, in a war like this, can animate 
their minds and ours. 

They, by a strange frenzy driven, fight for power, for plunder, 
and extended rule ; — we, for our country, our altars, and our 
homes. They follow an adventurer whom they fear, and obey a 
power which they hate ; — we serve a monarch whom we love, — 
a God whom we adore. Wherever they move in anger, desola- 
tion tracks their progress. Wherever they pause in amity, 
affliction mourns their friendship. 

They boast they come but to improve our state, enlarge our 
thoughts, and free us from the yoke of error ! Yes ; — they 
will give enlightened freedom to our minds, who are themselves 
the slaves of passion, avarice, and pride. They offer us their 
protection ! Yes, such protection as vultures give to lambs, — 
covering and devouring them ! They call on us to barter all 
the good we have inherited and proved, for the desperate chance 
of something better, which they promise ! 

Be our plain answer this : The throne we honor is the Peo- 
ple's choice, — the laws we reverence are our brave fathers' 
legacy, — the faith we follow teaches us to live in bonds of 
charity with all mankind, and die with hope of bliss beyond the 
grave. Tell your invaders this ; and tell them too, we seek no 
change ; and, least of all, such change as they would bring us ! 

R. B. Sheridan. 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 



in. 
INVECTIVE AGAINST WARREN HASTINGS. 

TF, my Lords, a stranger had at this time gone into the prov- 
-^ ince of Oude, ignorant of what had happened since the death 
of Sujah Dowlah — that prince who with a savage heart had 
still great lines of character, and who, with all his ferocity in 
war, had, with a cultivating hand, preserved to his country the 
wealth which it derived from benignant skies and a prolific soil 
— if, ignorant of all that had happened in the short interval, and 
observing the wide and general devastation of fields unclothed 
and brown ; of vegetation burned up and extinguished ; of vil- 
lages depopulated and in ruins ; of temples unroofed and perish- 
ing; of reservoirs broken down and dry, this stranger should 
ask, " what has thus laid waste this beautiful and opulent land ; 
what monstrous madness has ravaged with wide-spread war; 
what desolating foreign foe ; what civil discords ; what disputed 
succession ; what religious zeal ; what fabled monster has stalked 
abroad, and, with malice and mortal enmity to man, withered by 
the grasp of death every growth of nature and humanity, all 
means of delight, and each original, simple principle of bare 
existence ? " the answer would have been, not one of these 
causes ! No wars have ravaged these lands and depopulated 
these villages ! No desolating foreign foe ! No domestic broils ! 
No disputed succession ! No religious, super-serviceable zeal ! 
No poisonous monster ! No affliction of &-ovidence, which, 
while it scourged us, cut off the sources of resuscitation ! No ! 
This damp of death is the mere effusion of British amity ! We 
sink under the pressure of their support! We writhe under 
their perfidious gripe ! They have embraced us with their pro- 
tecting arms, and lo ! these are the fruits of their alliance ! 

What then, my Lords, shall we bear to be told that, under 
such circumstances, the exasperated feelings of a whole people, 
thus spurred on to clamor and resistance, were excited by the 
poor and feeble influence of the Begums ? After hearing the 
description given by an eye-witness of the paroxysm of fever 
and delirium into which despair threw the natives when on the 
banks of the polluted Ganges, panting for breath, they tore more 



6 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

widely open the lips of their gaping wounds, to accelerate their 
dissolution ; and while their blood was issuing, presented their 
ghastly eyes to heaven, breathing their last and fervent prayer 
that the dry earth might not be suffered to drink their blood, but 
that it might rise up to the throne of God, and rouse the eternal 
Providence to avenge the wrongs of their country, — will it be 
said that all this was brought about by the incantations of these 
Begums in their secluded Zenana; or that they could inspire 
this enthusiasm and this despair into the breasts of a people who 
felt no grievance, and had suffered no torture ? 

What motive, then, could have such influence in their bosom ? 
What motive ! v That which nature, the common parent, plants 
in the bosom of man ; and which, though it may be less active 
in the Indian than in the Englishman, is still congenial with, and 
makes a part of his being. That feeling which tells him that 
man was never made to be the property of man ; but that, when 
in the pride and insolence of power, one human creature dares to 
tyrannize over another, it is a power usurped, and resistance is a 
duty. That principle which tells him that resistance to power 
usurped is not merely a duty which he owes to himself and to 
his neighbor, but a duty which he owes to his God, in asserting 
and maintaining the rank which he gave him in his creation — 
that God, who, where he gives the form of man, whatever 
may be the complexion, gives also the feelings and the rights of 
man. That principle which neither the rudeness of ignorance 
can stifle, nor the enervation of refinement extinguish ! That 
principle which n^kes it base for a man to suffer when he ought 
to act ; which, tending to preserve to the species the original 
designations of Providence, spurns at the arrogant distinctions 
of man, and indicates the independent quality of his race. 

B. B. Sheridan. 



IV. 
TEE BIBLE TEE BEST CLASSIC. 

ri^HE Bible is the only book which God has ever sent, and the 

only one he ever will send into the world. All other books 

are frail and transient as time, since they are only the registers 

of time ; but the Bible is as durable as eternity, for its pages 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 7 

contain the records of eternity. All other books are weak and 
imperfect, like their author, man ; but the Bible is a transcript 
of infinite power and perfection. Every other volume is limited 
in its usefulness and influence ; but the Bible came forth con- 
quering and to conquer, — rejoicing as a giant to run his course, 
— and like the sun, " there is nothing hid from the heat thereof." 
The Bible only, of all the myriads of books the world has seen, 
is equally important and interesting to all mankind. Its tidings, 
whether of peace or of woe, are the same to the poor, the igno- 
rant, and the weak, as to the rich, the wise, and the powerful. 

Among the most remarkable of its attributes, is justice ; for it 
looks with impartial eyes on kings and on slaves, on the hero 
and the soldier, on philosophers and peasants, on the eloquent 
and the dumb. From all, it exacts the same obedience to its 
commandments : to the good, it promises the fruits of his labors ; 
to the evil, the reward of his hands. Nor are the purity and 
holiness, the wisdom, benevolence, and truth of the Scriptures 
less conspicuous than their justice. In sublimity and beauty, in 
the descriptive and pathetic, in dignity and simplicity of narra- 
tive, in power and comprehensiveness, in depth and variety of 
thought, in purity and elevation of sentiment, the most enthu- 
siastic admirers of the heathen classics have conceded their in- 
feriority to the Scriptures. 

The Bible, indeed, is the only universal classic, the classic of 
all mankind, of every age and country, of time and eternity ; 
more humble and simple than the primer of a child, more grand 
and magnificent than the epic and the oration, the ode and the 
drama, when genius, with his chariot of fire, and his horses of 
fire, ascends in whirlwind into the heaven of his own invention. 
It is • the best classic the world has ever seen, the noblest that 
has ever^ honored and dignified the language of mortals ! 

If you boast that the Aristotles, and the Platos, and the 
Tullies of the classic age, "dipped their pens in intellect," the 
sacred authors dipped theirs in inspiration. If those were the 
ta secretaries of nature," these were the secretaries of the very 
Author of nature. If Greece and Rome have gathered into 
their cabinet of curiosities the pearls of heathen poetry and elo- 
quence, the diamonds of pagan history and philosophy, God 
himself has treasured up in the Scriptures, the poetry and elo- 



8 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

quence, the philosophy and history of sacred law-givers, of 
prophets and apostles, of saints, evangelists, and martyrs. In 
vain you may seek for the pure and simple light of universal 
truth in the Augustan ages of antiquity. In the Bible only, is 
the poet's wish fulfilled, — 

" And like the sun be all one boundless eye." 

T. S. Grimke. 



WHAT WE OWE TO THE SWORD. 

npO the question, " What have the People ever gained but by 
Revolution?" I answer, boldly, If by revolution be un- 
derstood the law of the sword, Liberty has lost far more than 
she ever gained by it. • The sword was the destroyer of the 
Lycian Confederacy and the Achaean League. The sword alter- 
nately enslaved and disenthralled Thebes and Athens, Sparta, 
Syracuse, and Corinth. The sword of Rome conquered every 
other free State, and finished the murder of Liberty in the an- 
cient world, by destroying herself. What but the sword, in 
modern times, annihilated the Republics of Italy, the Hanseatic 
Towns, and the primitive independence of Ireland, Wales, and 
Scotland ? What but the sword partitioned Poland, assassinated 
the rising liberty of Spain, banished the Huguenots from France, 
and made Cromwell jfche master, not the servant, of the People ? 
And what but the sword of Republican France destroyed the 
independence of half of Europe, deluged the continent with 
tears, devoured its millions upon millions, and closed the long 
catalogue of guilt, by founding and defending to the last, the 
most powerful, selfish, and insatiable of military despotisms ? 

The sword, indeed, delivered Greece from the Persian invad- 
ers, expelled the Tarquins from Rome, emancipated Switzerland 
and Holland, restored the Prince to his throne, and brought 
Charles to the scaffold. And the sword redeemed the pledge of 
the Congress of '76, when they plighted to each other " their 
lives, their fortunes, and their sacred honor." And yet, what 
would the redemption of that pledge have availed towards the 
establishment of our present government, if the spirit of Amer- 
ican institutions had not been both the birthright and the birth- 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 9 

blessing of the Colonies ? The Indians, the French, the Span- 
iards, and even England herself, warred in vain against a people, 
born ami bred in the household, at the domestic altar of Liberty 
herself. They had never been slaves, for they were born free. 
The sword was a herald to proclaim their freedom, but it neither 
created nor preserved it. A century and a half had already be- 
held them free in infancy, free in youth, free in early manhood. 
Theirs was already the spirit of American institutions ; the spirit 
of Christian freedom, of a temperate, regulated freedom, of a 
rational civil obedience. For such a people the sword, the law 
of violence, did and could do nothing but sever the bonds which 
bound her colonial wards to their unnatural guardian. They 
redeemed their pledge, sword in hand ; but the sword left them 
as it found them, unchanged in character, freemen in thought 
and in deed, instinct with the immortal spirit of American insti- 
tutions. T. S. Grimke. 



VI. 
DUTY OF LITERARY MEN TO THEIR COUNTRY. 

TT7E cannot honor our country with too deep a reverence ; 
we cannot love her with an affection too pure and fervent ; 
we cannot serve her with an energy of purpose or a faithfulness 
of zeal too steadfast and ardent. And what is our country ? It 
is not the East, with her hills and her valleys, with her countless 
sails and the rocky ramparts of her shores. It is not the North, 
with her thousand villages, and her harvest-home, with her 
frontiers of the lake and the ocean. It is not the West, with 
her forest-sea and her inland-isles, with her luxuriant expanses, 
clothed in the verdant corn, with her beautiful Ohio and her ma- 
jestic Missouri. Nor is it yet the South, opulent in the mimic 
snow of the cotton, in the rich plantations of the rustling cane, 
and in the golden robes of the rice-field. What are these but the 
sister families of one greater, better, holier family, — OUR coun- 
try ? 

I come not here to speak the dialect, or to give the counsels 
of the patriot-statesman. But I come, a patriot scholar, to vin- 
dicate the rights and to plead for the interests of American 
Literature. And be assured, that we cannot, as patriot-scholars, 



10 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

think too highly of that country, or sacrifice too much for her. 
And let us never forget, — let us rather remember with a relig- 
ious awe, — that the union of these States is indispensable to our 
Literature, as it is to our national independence and civil liber- 
ties, — to our prosperity, happiness, and improvement. 

If, indeed, we desire to behold a literature like that which has 
sculptured with so much energy of expression, which has painted 
so faithfully and vividly, the crimes, the vices, the follies of an- 
cient and modern Europe ; — if we desire that our land should 
furnish for the orator and the novelist, for the painter and the poet, 
age after age, the wild and romantic scenery of war ; the glitter- 
ing march of armies, and the revelry of the camp; the shrieks 
and blasphemies, and all the horrors of the battle-field ; the deso- 
lation of the harvest, and the burning cottage ; the storm, the 
sack, and the ruin of cities ; — if we desire to unchain the furi- 
ous passions of jealousy and selfishness, of hatred, revenge, and 
ambition, those lions that now sleep harmless in their den ; — 
if we desire that the lake, the river, the ocean, should blush 
with the blood of brothers ; that the winds should waft from the 
land to the sea, from the sea to the land, the roar and the smoke 
of battle, that the very mountain-tops should become altars for 
the sacrifice of brothers ; — if we desire that these, and such as 
these, — the elements, to an incredible extent, of the literature 
of the Old World, — should be the elements of our literature ; 
then, but then only, let us hurl from its pedestal the majestic 
statue of our Union, and scatter its fragments over all our land. 

But, if we covet for our country the noblest, purest, loveliest 
literature the world has ever seen, — such a literature as shall 
honor God, and bless mankind, — a literature, whose smiles 
might play upon an angel's face, whose tears " would not stain an 
angel's cheek," — then let us cling to the Union of these States 
with a patriot's love, with a scholar's enthusiasm, with a Chris- 
tian's hope. 

In her heavenly character, as a holocaust self-sacrificed to 
God ; at the height of her glory, as the ornament of a free, edu- 
cated, peaceful Christian people, American Literature will find 
that the intellectual spirit is her very tree of life, 
and the Union her Garden of Paradise. 

T. S. GrimU. 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 11 



vn. 

AMERICA'S OBLIGATIONS TO ENGLAND. 

rilHE honorable member has asked — "And now will these 
"*" Americans, children planted by our care, nourished up by 
our indulgence, and protected by our arms, — will they grudge 
to contribute their mite ? " They planted by your care I No ; 
your oppressions planted them in America ! They fled from 
your tyranny to a then uncultivated and inhospitable country, 
where they exposed themselves to almost all the hardships to 
which human nature is liable ; and, among others, to the cruel- 
ties of a savage foe the most subtle, and I will take upon me to 
say the most formidable, of any people upon the face of the 
earth ; and yet, actuated by principles of true English liberty, 
our American brethren met all the hardships with pleasure, com- 
pared with those they suffered in their own country from the 
hands of those that should have been their friends. 

They nourished by your indulgence / They' grew by your 
neglect of them ! As soon as you began to care about them, 
that care was exercised in sending persons to rule them, in one 
department and another, who were, perhaps, the deputies of dep- 
uties to some members of this House, sent to spy out their liber- 
ties, to misrepresent their actions, and to prey upon them; — 
men whose behavior, on many occasions, has caused the blood of 
those sons of liberty to recoil within them ; men promoted to the 
highest seats of justice, — some who, to my knowledge, were 
glad, by going to a foreign country, to escape being brought to 
the bar of a court of justice in their own. 

They "protected by your arms I They have nobly taken up 
arms in your defence ; — have exerted a valor, amid their con- 
stant and laborious industry, for the defence of a country whose 
frontier was drenched in blood, while its interior parts yielded 
all its little savings to your emolument. And, believe me, — 
remember I this day told you so, — that same spirit of freedom 
which actuated that people at first will accompany them still ; 
but prudence forbids me to explain myself further. 

Heaven knows I do not at this time speak from motives of 
party heat. What I deliver are the genuine sentiments of my 



12 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

heart. However superior to me, in general knowledge and ex- 
perience, the respectable body of this House may be, yet I claim 
to know more of America than most of you, having seen that 
country and been conversant with its affairs. The people, I be- 
lieve, are as truly loyal as any subjects the king has ; but they 
are a people jealous of their liberties, and Avho, if those liberties 
should ever be violated, will vindicate them to the last drop of 
their blood. Isaac Barre. 



vm. 
WEBSTER'S PLEA FOR DARTMOUTH COLLEGE. 

fT^HE Supreme Court of the United States held its session that 
winter in a mean apartment of moderate size — the Capitol 
not having been built after its destruction in 1814. The audi- 
ence, when the case came on, w T as therefore small, consisting 
chiefly of legal men, the elite of the profession throughout the 
country. Mr. Webster entered upon his argument in the calm 
tone of easy and dignified conversation. His matter was so 
completely at his command that he scarcely looked at his brief, 
but went on for more than four hours with a statement so lumi- 
nous, and a chain of reasoning so easy to be understood, and yet 
approaching so nearly to absolute demonstration, that he seemed 
to carry with him every man of his audience without the slight- 
est effort or weariness on either side. It was hardly eloquence, 
in the strict sense of the term ; it was pure reason. Now and 
then, for a sentence or two, his eye flashed and his voice swelled 
into a bolder note, as he uttered some emphatic thought ; but he 
instantly fell back into the tone of earnest conversation, which 
ran throughout the great body of his speech. 

The argument ended. Mr. Webster stood for some moments 
silent before the court, while every eye was fixed intently upon 
him. At length, addressing the chief justice, Marshall, he pro- 
ceeded thus : -r- 

" This, Sir, is my case I It is the case, not merely of that 
humble institution, it is the case of every college in our land. 
It is more. It is the case of every eleemosynary institution 
throughout the country, — of all those great charities founded 
by the piety of our ancestors to alleviate human misery, and 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 13 

scatter blessings along the pathway of life. It is more ! It is, 
in some sense, the case of every man among us who has property 
of which he may be stripped ; for the question is simply this : 
Shall our State legislatures be allowed to take that which is not 
their own, to turn it from its original use, and apply it to such 
ends or purposes as they, in their discretion, shall see fit ? 

" Sir, you may destroy this little institution ; — it is weak ; it is 
in your hands ! I know it is one of the lesser lights in the lit- 
erary horizon of our country. You may put it out. But if you 
do so, you must carry through your work ! You must extin- 
guish, one after another, all those great lights of science which, 
for more than a century, have thrown their radiance over our 
land! 

" It is, Sir, as I have said, a small college. And yet, there are 
those who love it ." 

Here the feelings which he had thus far succeeded in keeping 
down, broke forth. His lips quivered ; his firm cheeks trembled 
with emotion ; his eyes were filled with tears, his voice choked, 
and he seemed struggling to the utmost simply to gain that 
mastery over himself which might save him from an unmanly 
burst of feeling. I will not attempt to give you the few broken 
words of tenderness in which he went on to speak of his attach- 
ment to the college. The whole seemed to be mingled through- 
out with the recollections of father, mother, brother, and all the 
trials and privations through which he had made his way into 
life. Every one saw that it was wholly unpremeditated, a pres- 
sure on his heart, which sought relief in words and tears. 

The court-room during these two or three minutes presented 
an extraordinary spectacle. Chief Justice Marshall, w T ith his tall 
and gaunt figure, bent over as if to catch the slightest whisper, 
the deep furrows of his cheek expanded with emotion, and eyes 
suffused with tears. Mr. Justice Washington at his side, — with 
his small and emaciated frame, and countenance more like mar- 
ble than I ever saw on any other human being, — leaning for- 
ward with an eager,' troubled look ; and the remainder of the 
court, at the two extremities, pressing, as it were, toward a 
single point, while the audience below were wrapping themselves 
round in closer folds beneath the bench to catch each look and 
every movement of the speaker's face. If a painter could give us 



14 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

the scene on canvas, — those forms and countenances, and Daniel 
Webster as he then stood in the midst, — it would be one of the 
most touching pictures in the history of eloquence. One thing it 
taught me, that the pathetic depends not merely on the words 
uttered, but still more on the estimate we put upon him who 
utters them. There was not one among the strong-minded men 
of that assembly who could think it unmanly to weep, when he 
saw standing before him the man who had made such an argu- 
ment, melted into the tenderness of a child. 

Mr. Webster had now recovered his composure, and fixing his 
keen eye on the Chief Justice, said in that deep tone with which 
he sometimes thrilled the heart of an audience, — 

" Sir, I know not how others feel, (glancing at the opponents 
of the college before him,) but, for myself, when I see my Alma 
Mater surrounded, like Caesar in the senate-house, by those who 
are reiterating stab upon stab, I would not, for my right hand, 
have her turn to me, and say, Et tu quoque, mi jili! And thou, 
too, my son ! " 

He sat down. There was a deathlike stillness throughout the 
room for some moments ; every one seemed to be slowly recov- 
ering himself, and coming gradually back to his ordinary range 
of thought and feeling. C. A. Goodrich. 



IX. 
THE FOUNDERS OF BOSTON. 

f\N this occasion, it is proper to speak of the founders of our 
^^ city, and of their glory. Now in its true acceptation, the 
term glory expresses the splendor which emanates from virtue, 
in the act of producing general and permanent good. Right 
conceptions, then, of the glory of our ancestors, are to be ob- 
tained only by analyzing their virtues. These virtues, indeed, 
are not seen charactered in breathing bronze, or in living marble. 
Our ancestors have left no Corinthian temples on our hills, no 
Gothic cathedrals on our plains, no proud pyramid, no storied 
obelisk, in our cities. But mind is there. Sagacious enterprise 
is there. An active, vigorous, intelligent, moral population 
throng our cities, and predominate in our fields ; — men, patient 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 15 

of labor, submissive to law, respectful to authority, regardful of 
right, faithful to liberty. These are the monuments of our an- 
cestors. They stand immutable and immortal, in the social, 
moral, and intellectual condition of their descendants. They 
exist in the spirit which their precepts instilled, and their ex- 
ample implanted. 

It was to this spot, during twelve successive years, that the 
great body of those first settlers emigrated. In this place, they 
either fixed permanently their abode, or took their departure 
from it, for the coast or the interior. Whatever honor devolves 
on this metropolis, from the events connected with its first set- 
tlement, is not solitary or exclusive ; it is shared with Massa- 
chusetts ; with New England ; in some sense, with the whole 
United States. For what part of this wide empire, be it sea or 
shore, lake or river, mountain or valley, have the descendants 
of the first settlers of New England not traversed ; what depth 
of forest not penetrated ? what danger of nature or man not 
defied ? Where is the cultivated field, in redeeming which from 
the wilderness, their vigor has not been displayed ? Where, 
amid unsubdued nature, by the side of the first log-hut of the 
settler, does the school-house stand, and the church-spire rise, 
unless the sons of New England are there ? Where does im- 
provement advance, under the active* energy of willing hearts 
and ready hands, prostrating the moss-covered monarch of the 
wood, and from their ashes, amid their charred roots, bidding the 
green sward and the waving harvest to upspring, and the spirit 
of the fathers of New England is not seen, hovering and shed- 
ding around the benign influences of sound, social, moral, and 
religious institutions, stronger and more enduring than knotted 
oak or tempered steel ? The swelling tide of their descendants 
has spread upon our coasts, ascended our rivers, taken posses- 
sion of our plains. Already it encircles our lakes. At this hour, 
the rushing noise of the advancing wave startles the wild beast 
in his lair among the prairies of the West. Soon it shall be seen 
climbing the Rocky Mountains, and, as it dashes over their cliffs, 
shall be hailed by the dwellers on the Pacific, as the harbinger 
of the coming blessings of safety, liberty, and truth. 

Pres. Quincy. 



16 THE UNION SPEAKER. 



x. 

TEE AMERICAN SAILOR. 



T OOK to your history, — that part of it which the world 
knows by heart, — and you will find on its brightest page 
the glorious achievements of the American sailor. Whatever 
his country has done to disgrace him, and break his spirit, he 
has never disgraced her ; — he has always been ready to serve 
her ; he always has served her faithfully and effectually. He has 
often been weighed in the balance, and never found wanting. 
The only fault ever found with him is, that he sometimes fights 
ahead of his orders. The world has no match for him, man for 
man ; and he asks no odds, and he cares for no odds, when the 
cause of humanity, or the glory of his country, calls him to fight 

Who, in the darkest days of our Revolution, carried your flag 
into the very chops of the British Channel, bearded the lion in 
his den, and woke the echoes of old Albion's hills by the thun- 
ders of his cannon, and the shouts of his triumph ? It was the 
American sailor. And the names of John Paul Jones, and the 
Bon Homme Richard, will go down the annals of time forever. 
Who struck the first blow that humbled the Barbary flag, — 
which, for a hundred years, had been the terror of Christendom, 
— drove it from the Mediterranean, and put an end to the in- 
famous tribute it had been accustomed to extort ? It was the 
American sailor, and the name of Decatur and his gallant com- 
panions will be as lasting as monumental brass. 

In the year 1812, when your arms on shore were covered by 
disaster, — when Winchester had been defeated, when the army 
of the Northwest had surrendered, and when the feeling of 
despondency hung like a cloud over the land, — who first relit 
the fires of national glory, and made the welkin ring with the 
shouts of victory ? It was the American sailor. And the names 
of Hull and the Constitution will be remembered as long as we 
have left anything worth remembering. 

The wand of British invincibility was broken when the flag 
of the Guerriere came down. That one event was worth more 
to the Republic than all the money which has ever been ex- 
pended for the navy. Since that day, the navy has had no 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 17 

stain upon its escutcheon, but has been cherished as your pride 
and glory. And the American sailor has established a reputa- 
tion throughout the world, — in peace and in war, in storm and 
in battle, — for heroism and prowess unsurpassed. He shrinks 
from no danger, he dreads no foe, he yields to no superior. No 
shoals are too dangerous, no Seas too boisterous, no climate too 
rigorous for him. The burning sun of the tropic cannot make 
him effeminate, nor can the eternal winter of the polar seas 
paralyze his energies. R. F. Stockton. 

» 

XI. 

MORALITY, THE FOUNDATION OF NATIONAL GREATNESS. 

~V^~HEN we look forward to the probable growth of this 
country ; when we think of the millions of human beings 
who are to spread over our present territory ; of the career of 
improvement and glory open to this new people ; of the impulse 
which free institutions, if prosperous, may be expected to give 
to philosophy, religion, science, literature, and arts ; of the vast 
field in which the experiment is to be made, of what the unfet- 
tered powers of man may achieve ; of the bright page of history 
which our fathers have filled, and of the advantages under which 
their toils and virtues have placed us for carrying on their work ; 
— when we think of all .this, can we help, for a moment, surren- 
dering ourselves to bright visions of our country's glory, before 
which all the glories of the past are to fade away? 

Is it presumption to say, that, if just to ourselves and all 
nations, we shall be felt through this whole continent, that we 
shall spread our language, institutions, and civilization, through 
a wider space than any nation has yet filled with a like benefi- 
cent influence ? And are we prepared to barter these hopes, 
this sublime moral empire, for conquests by force ? Are we 
prepared to sink to the level of unprincipled nations, to content 
ourselves with a vulgar, guilty greatness, to adopt in our youth 
maxims and ends which must brand our future with sordidness, 
oppression, and shame ? This country cannot, without peculiar 
infamy, run the common race of national rapacity. Our origin, 
institutions, and position are peculiar, and all favor an upright, 
honorable course. 

2 



18 THE UNION SPEAKER 

Why cannot we rise to noble conceptions of our destiny? 
Why do we not feel, that our work as a nation is to carry free- 
dom, religion, science, and a noble form of human nature over 
this continent ? And why do we not remember, that to diffuse 
these blessings we must first cherish them in our own borders ; 
and that whatever deeply and permanently corrupts us, will 
make our spreading influence a curse, not a blessing, to this new 
world ? I am not prophet enough to read our fate. I believe, 
indeed, that we are to make our futurity for ourselves. I be- 
lieve, that a nation's destiny lies in its character, in the prin- 
ciples which govern its policy, and bear rule in the hearts of its 
citizens. I take my stand on God's moral and eternal law. A 
nation, renouncing and defying this, cannot be free, cannot be 

great. W. E. Charming. 



xn. 
INTEMPERANCE. 

A MONG the evils of intemperance, much importance is given 
~*^" to the poverty of which it is the cause. But this evil, 
great as it is, is yet light, in comparison with the essential evil 
of intemperance. What matters it, that a man be poor, if he 
carry into his poverty the spirit, energy, reason, and virtues of a 
man ? 'What matters it, that a man must, for a few years, live 
on bread and water ? How many of the richest are reduced, by 
disease, to a worse condition than this ? Honest, virtuous, noble- 
minded poverty, is comparatively a light evil. The ancient 
philosopher chose it, as a condition of virtue. It has been the 
lot of many a Christian. 

The poverty of the intemperate man owes its great misery to 
its cause. He who makes himself a beggar, by having made 
himself a brute, is miserable indeed. He who has no solace, who 
has only agonizing recollections and harrowing remorse, as he 
looks on his cold hearth, his scanty table, his ragged children, 
has indeed to bear a crushing weight of woe. That he suffers, 
is a light thing. That he has brought on himself this suffering, 
by the voluntary extinction of his reason, that is the terrible 
thought, the intolerable curse. 

Intemperance is to be pitied and abhorred for its own sake, 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 19 

much more than for its outward consequences. These owe 
their chief bitterness to their criminal source. We speak of 
the miseries which the drunkard carries to his family. But 
take away his own brutality, and how lightened would be these 
miseries ! We talk of his wife and children in rags. Let the 
rags continue ; but suppose them to be the effects of an innocent 
cause. Suppose his wife and children bound to him by a strong 
love, which a life of labor for their support, and of unwearied 
kindness has awakened ; suppose them to know that his toils for 
their welfare had broken down his frame ; suppose him able to 
say, " We are poor in this world's goods, but rich in affection 
and religious trust. I am going from you ; but I leave you to 
the Father of the fatherless, and to the widow's God." Suppose 
this: and how changed these rags! — how changed the cold, 
naked room ! The heart's warmth can do much to withstand 
the winter's cold ; — and there is hope, there is honor, in this 
virtuous indigence. 

What breaks the heart of the drunkard's wife ? It is not that 
he is poor, but that he is a drunkard. Instead of that bloated 
face, now distorted with passion, now robbed of every gleam of 
intelligence, if the wife could look on an affectionate countenance, 
which had, for years, been the interpreter of a well-principled 
mind and faithful heart, what an overwhelming load would be 
lifted from her ! It is a husband, whose touch is polluting, 
whose infirmities are the witness of his guilt, who has blighted 
all her hopes, who has proved false to the vow. which made her 
his ; it is such a husband who makes home a hell, — not one 
whom toil and disease and Providence have cast on the care of 
wife and children. 

We look too much at the consequences of vice, — too little at 
the vice itself. It is vice which is the chief weight of what we 
call its consequences, — vice, which is the bitterness in the cup 
of human woe. W. E. Charming. * 

♦ 

xm. 

INCONSISTENT EXPECTATIONS. 

np HIS world may be considered as a great mart of commerce, 
where fortune exposes to our view various commodities, — 



20 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

riches, ease, tranquillity, fame, integrity, knowledge. Everything 
is marked at a settled price, — our time, our labor, our ingenuity, 
is so much ready money, which we are to lay out to the best 
advantage. Examine, compare, choose, reject ; but stand to 
your own judgment, and do not, like children, when you have 
purchased one thing, repine that you do not possess another 
which you did not purchase. 

Such is the force of well-regulated industry, that a steady and 
vigorous exertion of our faculties, directed to one end, will gen- 
erally insure success. Would you, for instance, be rich ? Do 
you think that single point worth the sacrifice of everything 
else? You may then be rich. Thousands have become so, 
from the lowest beginnings, by toil, and patient diligence, and 
attention to the minutest articles of expense and profit. But you 
must give up the pleasures of leisure, of mental ease, of a free, 
unsuspicious temper. If you preserve your integrity, it must be 
a coarse-spun and vulgar honesty. Those high and lofty notions 
of morals which you brought with you from the schools, must be 
considerably lowered, and mixed with the baser alloy of a jealous 
and worldly-minded prudence. You must learn to do hard, if 
not unjust things ; and as for the nice embarrassments of a deli- 
cate and ingenuous spirit, it is necessary to get rid of them as 
fast as possible. You must shut your heart against the Muses, 
and be content to feed your understanding with plain household 
truths. In short, you must not attempt to enlarge your ideas, or 
polish your taste, or refine your sentiments, but must keep on in 
one beaten track, without turning aside either to the right or to 
the left. " But you say, I cannot submit to drudgery like this ; 
I feel a spirit above it." 'Tis well, be above it then ; only do 
not repine that you are not rich. 

Is knowledge the pearl of price- in your estimation ? That, too, 
may be purchased by steady application, and long solitary study 
and reflection. Bestow these, and you shall be learned. " But," 
says the man of letters, " what a hardship is it, that many an 
illiterate fellow, who cannot construe the motto of the arms on 
his coach, shall raise a fortune and make a figure, while I have 
little more than the common conveniences of life ! " Was it, 
then, to raise a fortune, that you consumed the sprightly hours 
of youth in study and retirement ? Was it to be rich that you 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 21 

grew pale over the midnight lamp, and distilled the sweetness 
from the Greek and Roman springs ? You have then mistaken 
your path, and ill employed your industry. " What reward have 
I, then, for all my labor ? " What reward ! A large, compre- 
hensive soul, well purged from vulgar fears, and perturbations, 
and prejudices ; able to comprehend and interpret the works of 
man, — of God ; a rich, flourishing, cultivated mind, furnished 
with inexhaustible stores of entertainment and reflection ; a 
perpetual spring of fresh ideas, and the conscious dignity of. 
superior intelligence. Good Heaven ! What other reward can 
you ask besides ! 

" But is it not some reproach upon the economy of Provi- 
dence, that such a one, who is a mean, dirty fellow, should have 
amassed wealth enough to buy half a nation ? " Not in the least. 
He made himself a mean, dirty fellow for that very end. He 
has paid his health, his conscience, his liberty for it ; and will 
you envy him his bargain ? Will you hang your head and blush 
in his presence, because he outshines you in equipage and show ? 
Lift up your brow with a noble confidence, and say to yourself, 
" I have not these things, it is true ; but it is because I have not 
sought, because I have not desired them ; it is because I pos- 
sess something better. I have chosen my lot ; I am content and 
satisfied." The characteristic mark of a great and noble mind is 
to choose some high and worthy object, and pursue that object 

through life. Mrs. Barbauld. 



xrv. 
THE PATRIOTS SWORD VINDICATED. 

T>UT, my Lord, I dissented from the resolutions before us, for 
-^ other reasons. I dissented from them, because I felt that, 
by giving them my assent, I should have pledged myself to the 
unqualified repudiation of physical force in all countries, at all 
times, and under every circumstance. This I could not do. For, 
my Lord, I do not abhor the use of arms in the vindication of 
national rights. There are times, when arms will alone suffice, 
and when political ameliorations call for a drop of blood,* and 
many thousand drops of blood. Opinion, I admit, will operate 
against opinion. But, as the honorable member for Kilkenny 



22 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

has observed, force must be used against force. The soldier is 
proof against an argument, but he is not proof against a bullet. 
The man that will listen to reason, let him be reasoned with. 
But it is the weaponed arm of the patriot that can alone prevail 
against battalioned despotism. 

Then, my Lord, I do not condemn the use of arms as immoral, 
nor do I conceive it profane to say, that the King of Heaven — 
the Lord of Hosts ! the God of Battles ! — bestows his benedic- 
tion upon those who unsheathe the sword in the hour of a nation's 
peril. From that evening, on which, in the valley of Bethulia, 
he nerved the arm of the Jewish girl to smite the drunken 
tyrant in his tent, down to our day, in which he has blessed the 
insurgent chivalry of the Belgian priest, his almighty hand hath 
ever been stretched forth from his Throne of Light, to conse- 
crate the flag of freedom — to bless the patriot's sword ! Be it 
in the defence, or be it in the assertion of a people's liberty, I 
hail the sword as a sacred weapon ; and if, my Lord, it has some- 
times taken the shape of the serpent and reddened the shroud of 
the oppressor with too deep a dye, like the anointed rod of the 
High Priest, it has at other times, and as often, blossomed into 
celestial flowers to deck the freeman's brow. 

Abhor the sword — stigmatize the sword ? No, my Lord, for, 
in the passes of the Tyrol, it cut to pieces the banner of the Ba- 
varian, and, through those cragged passes, struck a path to fame 
for the present insurrectionist of Inspruck ! 

Abhor the sword — stigmatize the sword ? No, my Lord ; for 
at its blow, a giant nation started from the waters of the Atlan- 
tic, and by its redeeming magic, and in the quivering of its crim- 
son light, the crippled Colony sprang into the attitude of a proud 
Republic — prosperous, limitless, and invincible ! 

Abhor the sword — stigmatize the sword ? No, my Lord ; for 
it swept the Dutch marauders out of the fine old towns of Bel- 
gium — scourged them back to their own phlegmatic swamps — 
and knocked their flag and sceptre, their laws and bayonets into 
the sluggish waters of the Scheldt. 

My Lord, I learned that it was the right of a nation to govern 
herself — not in this hall, but upon the ramparts of Antwerp. 
This, the first article of a nation's creed, I learned upon those 
ramparts, where freedom was justly estimated, and the posses- 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 23 

sion of the precious gift was purchased by the effusion of gener- 
ous blood. 

My Lord, I honor the Belgians, I admire the Belgians, I love 
the Belgians for their enthusiasm, their courage, their success; 
and I, for one, will not stigmatize, for I do not abhor the means 
by whicli they obtained a citizen king, a chamber of deputies. 

T. F. Meagher. 
♦ 

XV. 
ON BEING FOUND GUILTY OF TREASON. 

A JURY of my countrymen have found me guilty of the 
•^*~ crime for which I stood indicted. For this I entertain not 
the slightest feeling of resentment towards them. Influenced, as 
they must have been, by the charge of the lord chief justice, 
they could have found no other verdict. What of that charge ? 
Any strong observations on it I feel sincerely would ill befit the 
solemnity of this scene ; but I would earnestly beseech of you, 
my Lord, — you who preside on that bench, — when the passions 
and prejudices of this hour have passed away, to appeal to your 
own conscience, and to ask of it, was your charge as it ought to 
have been, impartial and indifferent between the subject and the 



crown 



My Lords, you may deem this language unbecoming in me, and 
perhaps it will seal my fate. But I am here to speak the truth, 
whatever it may cost ; I am here to regret nothing I have ever 
done — to retract nothing I have ever said. I am here to crave, 
with no lying lip, the life I consecrate to the liberty of my coun- 
try. Far from it, even here — here, where the thief, the liber- 
tine, the murderer, have left their foot-prints in the dust ; here 
on this spot, where the shadows of death surround me, and from 
which I see my early grave in an unanointed soil opened to 
receive me — even here, encircled by these terrors, the hope 
which has beckoned me to the perilous sea upon which I have 
been wrecked still consoles, animates, enraptures me. 

No ; I do not despair of my poor old country — her peace, 
her liberty, her glory. For that country, I can do no more than 
bid her hope. To lift this island up, — to make her a benefactor 
to humanity, instead of being the meanest beggar in the world ; 



24 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

to restore her to her native powers and her ancient constitution, 
— this has been my ambition, and this ambition has been my 
crime. Judged by the law of England, I know this crime entails 
the penalty of death ; but the history of Ireland explains this 
crime, and justifies it. Judged by that history, I am no criminal, 
I deserve no punishment. Judged by that history, the treason 
of which I stand convicted loses all its guilt, is sanctioned as a 
duty, will be ennobled as a sacrifice. "With these sentiments, my 
Lord, I await the sentence of the court. • 

Having done what I felt to be my duty, — having spoken what 
I felt to be the truth, as I have done on every other occasion of 
my short career, — I now bid farewell to the country of my 
birth, my passion, and my death ; the country whose misfortunes 
have invoked my sympathies ; whose factions I have sought to 
still ; whose intellect I have prompted to a lofty aim ; whose 
freedom has been my fatal dream. I offer to that country, as a 
proof of the love I bear her, and the sincerity with which I 
thought and spoke and struggled for her freedom, the life of a 
young heart, and with that life all the hopes, the honors, the en- 
dearments, of a happy and an honored home. Pronounce, then, 
my Lords, the sentence which the laws direct, and I will be pre- 
pared to hear it. I trust I shall be prepared to meet its execu- 
tion. I hope to be able, with a pure heart and perfect composure, 
to appear before a higher tribunal — a tribunal where a judge of 
infinite goodness as well as of justice will preside, and where, 
my Lords, many, mauy of the judgments of this world will be 
reversed. T. F. Meagher. 



XVI. 

ADDRESS TO THE AMERICAN TROOPS BEFORE THE BATTLE 
OF LONG ISLAND. 

npHE time is now near at hand, which must probably deter- 
-*- mine whether Americans are to be freemen or slaves; 
whether they are to have any property they can call their own ; 
whether their houses and farms are to be pillaged and destroyed, 
and themselves consigned to a state of wretchedness from which 
no human efforts will deliver them. The fate of unborn millions 
will now depend, under God, on the courage and conduct of this 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 25 

army. Our cruel and unrelenting enemy leaves us only the 
choice of a brave resistance or the most abject submission. We 
have, therefore, to resolve to conquer or to die. 

Our own, our country's honor, calls upon us for a vigorous 
and manly exertion ; and, if we now shamefully fail, we shall 
become infamous to the whole world. Let us, then, rely on the 
goodness of our cause and the aid of the Supreme Being, in 
whose hands victory is, to animate and encourage us to great 
and noble actions. The eyes of all our countrymen are now 
upon us ; and we shall have their blessings and praises, if hap- 
pily we are the instrument of saving them from the tyranny 
meditated against them. Let us, therefore, animate and encour- 
age each other, and show the whole world that a freeman con- 
tending for liberty on his own ground, is superior to any slavish 
mercenary on earth. 

Liberty, property, life, and honor, are all at stake. Upon 
your courage and conduct rest the hopes of our bleeding and 
insulted country. Our wives, children, and parents expect safety 
from us only ; and they have every reason to believe that. 
Heaven will crown with success so just a cause. The enemy 
will endeavor to intimidate by show and appearance ; but 
remember they have been repulsed on various occasions by a 
few brave Americans. Their cause is bad, — their men are 
conscious of it; and, if opposed with firmness and coolness on 
their first onset, with our advantage of works, and knowledge of 
the ground, the victory is most assuredly ours. Every good sol- 
dier will be silent and attentive, wait for orders, and reserve his 
fire until he is sure of doing execution. Washington. 



XVII. 
CHARACTER OF CHATHAM. 

HP HE secretary stood alone ; modern degeneracy had not 
■*- reached him. Original and unaccommodating, the features 
of his character had the hardihood of antiquity. His august 
mind overawed majesty ; and one of his sovereigns thought roy- 
alty so impaired in his presence, that he conspired to remove 
him, in order to be relieved from his superiority. No state chi- 



26 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

canery, no narrow system of vicious politics, no idle contest for 
ministerial victories, sunk him to the vulgar level of the great ; 
but, overbearing, persuasive, and impracticable, his object was 
England, his ambition was fame. 

Without dividing, he destroyed party ; without corrupting, he 
made a venal age unanimous. France sunk beneath him. With 
one hand he smote the house of Bourbon, and wielded in the 
other the democracy of England. The sight of his mind was 
infinite ; and his schemes were to affect, not England, not the 
present age only, but Europe and posterity. Wonderful were 
the means by which these schemes were accomplished, — always 
seasonable, always adequate, the suggestions of an understanding 
animated by ardor, and enlightened by prophecy. 

The ordinary feelings which make life amiable and indolent, 
were unknown to him. No domestic difficulties, no domestic 
weakness, reached him ; but, aloof from the sordid occurrences 
of life, and unsullied by its intercourse, he came occasionally into 
our system, to counsel, and to decide. A character so exalted, 
so strenuous, so various, so authoritative, astonished a corrupt 
age ; and the treasury trembled at the name of Chatham, through 
all her classes of venality. Corruption imagined, indeed, th'at she 
had found defects in this statesman, and talked much of the 
inconsistency of his glory, and much of the ruin of his victories ; 
but the history of his country, and the calamities of the enemy, 
answered and refuted her. 

Nor were his political abilities his only talents ; his eloquence 
was an era in the senate, peculiar and spontaneous, familiarly 
expressing gigantic sentiments and instinctive wisdom ; not like 
the torrent of Demosthenes, or the splendid conflagration of 
Tully ; it resembled sometimes the thunder, and sometimes the 
music of the spheres. He did not, like Murray, conduct the un- 
derstanding through the painful subtlety of argumentation ; nor 
was he, like Townshend, forever on the rack of exertion ; but 
rather lightened upon the subject, and reached the point by the 
flashings of the mind, wkich, like those of his eye, were felt, but 
could not be followed. 

Upon the whole, there was in this man something that would 
create, subvert, or reform ; an understanding, a spirit, and an 
eloquence, to summon mankind to society, or to break the bonds 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 27 

of slavery asunder ; something to rule the wilderness of free 
minds with unbounded authority ; something that could establish, 
or overwhelm empire, and strike a blow in the world, that 
should resound through the universe. H. Grattan. 



XVIJI. 
THE PRESS AND THE UNION. 

TT were good for us to remember that nothing which tends, 
however distantly, however imperceptibly, to hold these 
States together, is beneath the notice of a considerate patriotism. 
It were good to remember that some of the institutions and 
devices by which former confederacies have been preserved, our 
circumstances wholly forbid us to employ. The tribes of Israel 
and Judah came up three times a year to the holy and beautiful 
city, and united in prayer and praise and sacrifice, in listening to 
that thrilling poetry, in swelling that matchless song, which cele- 
brated the triumphs of their fathers by the Red Sea, at the fords 
of Jordan, and on the high places of the field of Barak's victory. 
But we have no feast of the Passover, or of the Tabernacles, or 
of the Commemoration. The States of Greece erected temples 
of the gods by a common contribution, and worshipped in them. 
They consulted the same oracle ; they celebrated the same na- 
tional festival : mingled their deliberations in the same amphic- 
tyonic and subordinate assemblies, and sat together upon the 
same benches to hear their glorious history read aloud, in the 
prose of Heroditus, the poetry of Homer and of Pindar. We 
have built no national temples but the Capitol ; we consult no 
common oracle but the Constitution. We can meet together to 
celebrate no national festival. But the thousand tongues of the 
press, — clearer far than the silver trumpet of the jubilee, — 
louder than the voice of the herald at the games, — may speak 
and do speak to the whole people, without calling them from 
their homes or interrupting them in their employments. Happy 
if they should speak, and the people should hear, those things 
which pertain at least to their temporal and national salvation ! 

R. Choate. 



28 THE UNION SPEAKER. 



XIX. 

AMERICAN LITERATURE AND THE UNION. 

TN leaving this subject, I cannot help suggesting, at the hazard 
of being thought whimsical, that a literature of such writings 
as these, embodying the romance of the whole revolutionary and 
ante-revolutionary history of the United States, might do some- 
thing to perpetuate the Union itself. The influence of a rich 
literature of passion and fancy upon society must not be denied 
merely because you cannot measure it by the yard or detect it 
by the barometer. Poems and romances which shall be read in 
every parlor, by every fireside, in every school-house, behind 
every counter, in every printing-office, in every lawyer's office, 
at every weekly evening club, in all the States of this Confed- 
eracy, must do something, along with more palpable if not more 
powerful -agents, towards moulding and fixing that final, grand, 
complex result, — the national character. A keen, well- 
instructed judge of such things said, if he might write the bal- 
lads of a people, he cared little who made its laws. Let me say, 
if a hundred men of genius would extract such a body of roman- 
tic literature from our early history as Scott has extracted from 
the history of England and Scotland, and as Homer extracted 
from that of Greece, it perhaps would not be so alarming if 
demagogues should preach, or governors practice, or executives 
tolerate nullification. Such a literature would be a common 
property of all the States, — a treasure of common ancestral 
recollections, — more noble and richer than our thousand million 
acres of public land ; and, unlike that land, it would be indivisi- 
ble. It would be as the opening of a great fountain for the 
healing of the nations. It would turn back our thoughts from 
these recent and overrated diversities of interest, — these contro- 
versies about negro-cloth, coarse-wooled sheep, and cotton bag- 
ging, — to the day when our fathers walked hand in hand 
together through the valley of the Shadow of fteath in the War 
of Independence. Reminded of our fathers, we should remem- 
ber that we are brethren. The exclusiveness of State pride, — 
the narrow selfishness of a mere local policy, and the small 
jealousies of vulgar minds, would be merged in an expanded^ 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 29 

comprehensive, constitutional sentiment of old, family, fraternal 
regard. It would reassemble, as it were, the people of America 
in one vast congregation. It would rehearse in their hearing all 
things which God had done for them in the old time ; it would 
proclaim the law once more ; and then it would bid them join in 
that grandest and most affecting solemnity, — a national anthem 
of thanksgiving for the deliverance, of honor for the dead, of 
proud prediction for the future ! -R- Choate. 



XX. 

TEE LOVE OF READING. 

(T ET the case of a busy lawyer testify to the priceless value 
-^ of the love of reading. He comes home, his temples throb- 
bing, his nerves shattered, from a trial of a week ; surprised and 
alarmed by the charge of the judge, and pale with anxiety about 
the verdict of the next morning, not at all satisfied with what 
he has done himself, though he does not yet see how he could 
have improved it ; recalling with dread and self-disparagement, 
if not with envy, the brilliant effort of his antagonist, and tor- 
menting himself with the vain wish that he could have replied 
to it, — and altogether a very miserable subject, and in as unfa- 
vorable a condition to accept comfort from a wife and children as 
poor Christian in the first three pages of the " Pilgrim's Progress." 
With a superhuman effort he opens his book, and in the twink- 
ling of an eye he is looking into the full " orb of Homeric or 
Miltonic song ; " or he stands in the crowd — breathless, yet 
swayed as forests or the sea by winds — hearing and to judge 
the pleadings for the crown ; or the philosophy which soothed 
Cicero or Boethius in their afflictions, in exile, prison, and the 
contemplation of death, breathes over his petty cares like the 
sweet south ; or Pope or Horace laughs him into good humor ; 
or he walks with iEneas and the Sibyl in the mild light of the 
world of the laurelled dead; and the court-house is as com- 
pletely forgotten as the dreams of a pre-adamite life. Well may 
he prize that endeared charm, so effectual and safe, without 
which the brain had long ago been chilled by paralysis, or set on 
fire of insanity ! fi. Choate. 



30 THE UNION SPEAKER. 



XXI. 
ELOQUENCE OF TEE AMERICAN REVOLUTION. 

"V/TEN heard that eloquence in 1776, in that manifold and 
mighty appeal by the genius and wisdom of that new 
America, to persuade the people to take on the name of nation, 
and begin its life. By how many pens and tongues that great 
pleading was conducted ; through how many months before the 
date of the actual Declaration, it went on, day after day ; in 
how many forms, before how many assemblies, from the village 
newspaper, the more careful pamphlet, the private conversation, 
the town-meeting, the legislative bodies of particular colonies, up 
to the hall of the immortal old Congress, and the master intelli- 
gences of lion heart and eagle eye, that ennobled it, — all this 
you know. But the leader in that great argument was John 
Adams, of Massachusetts. He, by concession of all men, was 
the orator of that Revolution, — the Revolution in which a nation 
was born. Other and renowned names, by written or spoken 
eloquence, cooperated effectively, splendidly, to the grand result, 
— Samuel Adams, Samuel Chase, Jefferson, Henry, James 
Otis in an earlier stage. Each of these, and a hundred more, 
within circles of influence wider or narrower, sent forth, scatter- 
ing broadcast, the seed of life in the ready virgin soil. Each 
brought some specialty of gift to the work : Jefferson, the magic 
of style, and the habit and the power of delicious dalliance with 
those large, fair ideas of freedom and equality, so dear to man, 
so irresistible in that day ; Henry, the indescribable and lost 
spell of the speech of the emotions, which fills the eye, chills the 
blood, turns the cheek pale, — the lyric phase of eloquence, the 
" fire-water," as Lamartine has said, of the Revolution, instilling 
into the sense and the soul the sweet madness of battle ; Samuel 
Chase, the tones of anger, confidence, and pride, and the art to 
inspire them. John Adams's eloquence alone seemed to have 
met every demand of the time ; as a question of right, as a ques- 
tion of prudence, as a question of immediate opportunity, as a 
question of feeling, as a question of conscience, as a question of 
historical and durable and innocent glory, he knew it all through 
and through ; and in that mighty debate, which, beginning in 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 31 

Congress as far back as March or February, 1776, had its close 
on the second and on the fourth of July, he presented it in all its 
aspects, to every passion and affection, — to the burning sense 
of wrong, exasperated at length beyond control by the shedding 
of blood ; to grief, anger, self-respect ; to the desire of happiness 
and of safety ; to the sense of moral obligation, commanding that 
the duties of life are more than life ; to courage, which fears 
God, and knows no other fear ; to the craving of the colonial 
heart, of all hearts, for the reality and the ideal of country, and 
which cannot be filled unless the dear native land comes to be 
breathed on by the grace, clad in the robes, armed with the 
thunders, admitted an equal to the assembly of the nations ; to 
that large and heroical ambition which would build States, that 
imperial philanthropy which would open to liberty an asylum 
here, and give to the sick heart, hard fare, fettered conscience of 
the children of the Old World, healing, plenty, and freedom to 
worship God, — to these passions, and these ideas, he presented 
the appeal for months, day after day, until, on the third of July, 
1776, he could record the result, writing thus to his wife : "Yes- 
terday the greatest question was decided which ever was debated 
in America ; and a greater, perhaps, never was, nor will be, 
among men." 

Of that series of spoken eloquence all is perished ; not one 
reported sentence has come down to us. The voice through 
which the rising spirit of a young nation sounded out its dream 
of life is hushed. The great spokesman, of an age unto an age, 
is dead. 

And yet, of those lost words is not our whole America one 
immortal record and reporter ? Do ye not read them, deep cut, 
defying the tooth of time, on all the marble of our greatness ? 
How they blaze on the pillars of our Union! How is their 
deep sense unfolded and interpreted by every passing hour ! How 
do they come to life, and grow audible, as it were, in the bright- 
ening rays of the light he foresaw, as the fabled invisible heart 
gave out its music to the morning ! 

Yes, in one sense, they are perished. No parchment manu- 
script, no embalming printed page, no certain traditions of living 
or dead, have kept them. Yet, from out and from off all things 
around us, — our laughing harvests, our songs of labor, our com- 



32 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

merce on all the seas, our secure homes, our school-houses and 
churches, our happy people, our radiant and stainless flag, — 
how they come pealing, pealing, Independence now, and Inde- 
pendence forever ! R. Choate. 

xxn. 
TRIBUTE TO WEBSTER. 

T j^HEY say he was ambitious ! Yes, as Ames said of Hamil- 
ton, " there is no doubt that he desired glory ; and that, 
feeling his own force, he longed to deck his brow with the wreath 
of immortality." But I believe he would have yielded his arm, 
his frame to be burned, before he would havB sought to grasp 
the highest prize of earth by any means, by any organization, by 
any tactics, by any speech, which in the least degree endangered 
the harmony of the system. 

They say, too, he loved New England ! He did love New 
Hampshire — that old granite w r orld — the crystal hills, gray 
and cloud-topped ; the river, whose murmur lulled his cradle ; 
the old hearthstone ; the grave of father and mother. He loved 
Massachusetts, which adopted and honored him — that sounding 
sea-shore, that charmed elm-tree seat, that reclaimed farm, that 
choice herd, that smell of earth, that dear library, those, dearer 
friends ; but the " sphere of his duties was his time country." 
Dearly he loved you, for he was grateful for the open arms with 
which you welcomed the stranger and sent him onwards and up- 
wards. 

But when the crisis came, and the winds were let loose, and 
that sea of March " wrought and was tempestuous," then you saw 
that he knew even you only as you were, American citizens ; 
then you saw him rise to the true nature and stature of Ameri- 
can citizenship ; then you read on his brow only what he thought 
of the whole Republic ; then you saw him fold the robes of his 
habitual patriotism around him, and counsel for all — for all. 

So, then, he served you — ? to be pleased with his service was 
your affair, not his." 

And now what would he do, what would he be if he were here 
to-day ? I do not presume to know. But what a loss we have 
in him! 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 3§ 

I have read that in some hard battle, when the tide was run- 
ning against him, and his ranks were breaking, some one in the 
agony of a need of generalship exclaimed, " Oh for an hour of 
Dundee ! " So say I, Oh for an hour of Webster now ! Oh for 
one more roll of that thunder inimitable ! One more peal of 
that clarion ! One more grave and bold counsel of moderation ! 
One more throb of American feeling ! One more Farewell 
Address ! And then might he ascend unhindered to the bosom 
of his Father and his God. R. Choate. 



xxm. 

TEE FRUITS OF SKILFUL LABOR AND CULTIVATED 
INTELLECT. 

X>ERHAPS as striking an illustration on a large scale as 
-*~ could be desired, of the connection between the best di- 
rected and most skilful labor and the most cultivated and most 
powerful intellect, is afforded by the case of England. British 
industry, as a whole, is among the most splendid and extraor- 
dinary things in the history of man. When you consider how 
small a work-bench it has to occupy altogether, — a little stormy 
island bathed in almost perpetual fogs, without silk, or cotton, 
or vineyards, or sunshine, — and then look at that agriculture, 
so scientific and so rewarded, that vast net-work of internal 
intercommunication, the docks, merchant-ships, men-of-war, the 
trade encompassing the globe, the flag on which the sun never 
sets, — when you look, above all, at that vast body of useful 
and manly art, not directed, like the industry of France, — 
the industry of vanity, — to making pier-glasses and air-balloons 
and gobelin tapestry and mirrors, to arranging processions and 
chiselling silver and twisting gold into filigrees, but to cloth- 
ing the people, to the manufacture of woollen, cotton, and linen 
cloth, of railroads and chain-cables and canals and anchors and 
achromatic telescopes, and chronometers to keep the time at sea, 
— when you think of the vast aggregate mass of their manufac- 
turing and mechanical production, which no statistics can ex- 
press, and to find a market for which she is planting colonies 
under every constellation, and by intimidation, by diplomacy, is 
knocking at the door of every market-house upon the earth, — it 



84 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

is really difficult to restrain our admiration of such a display of 
energy, labor, and genius, winning bloodless and innocent tri- 
umphs everywhere, giving to the age we live in the name of the 
age of the industry of the people. Now, the striking and the 
instructive fact is, that exactly in that island workshop, by this 
very race of artisans, of coal-heavers and woollen manufacturers, 
of machinists and blacksmiths and ship-carpenters, there has 
been produced and embodied forever, in words that will outlast 
the mountains as well as the pyramids, a literature which, take 
it for all in all, is the richest, most profound, most instructive, 
combining more spirituality with more common sense, springing 
from more capacious souls, conveying in better wisdom, more 
conformable to the truth in man, in nature, and in human life, 
than the literature of any nation that ever existed. That same 
race, side by side with the unparalleled growth of its industry, 
produces Shakspeare, Milton, Bacon, and Newton, all four at the 
summit of human thought, — and then, just below these unap- 
proachable fixed lights, a whole firmament of glories, lesser than 
they, as all created intelligence must be, yet in whose superior 
rays the age of Augustus, of Leo X., of Louis XIV., all but the 
age of Pericles, the culture of Greece, pale and fade. And yet 
the literature of England is not the only, scarcely the most 
splendid, fruit or form of the mental power and the energetic 
character of England. That same race, along with their indus- 
try, along with their literature, has built up a jurisprudence 
which is for substance our law to-day, — has constructed the 
largest mercantile and war navy, and the largest commercial 
empire with its pillars encircling the globe, that men ever saw, 
— has gained greater victories on sea and land than any power 
in the world, — has erected the smallest spot to the most imperial 
ascendency recorded in history. The administrative triumphs 
of her intellect are as conspicuous as her imaginative and her 
speculative triumphs. 

Such is mental power. Mark its union with labor and with 
all greatness ; deduce the law ; learn the lesson ; see how you, 
too, may grow great. Such an industry as that of England de- 
manded such an intellect as that of England. Sic vobis etiam 
itur ad astra ! That way to you, also, glory lies ! R. Ckoaie. 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 33 

XXIV. 

I 
THE EMPIRE OF MIND. 

TZ" NOWLEDGE is power as well as fame. Think of that 
subtle, all-embracing, plastic, mysterious, irresistible thing 
called public opinion, the god of this lower world, and consider 
what a S:ate, or a cluster of States, % of marked and acknowl- 
edged literary and intellectual lead might do to color and shape 
that opinion to their will. Consider how winged are words ; 
how electrical, light-like the speed of thought ; how awful hu- 
man sympathy. Consider how soon a wise, a beautiful thought 
uttered here, — a sentiment of liberty perhaps, or word of suc- 
cor to the oppressed, of exhortations to duty, to patriotism, to 
glory, the refutation of a sophism, the unfolding of a truth for 
which the nation may be better, — how soon a word fitly or 
wisely spoken here is read on the Upper Mississippi and beneath 
the orange-groves of Florida, all through the unequalled valley j 
how vast an audience it gains, into how many bosoms it has 
access, on how much good soil the seed may rest and spring to 
life, how easily and fast the fine spirit of truth and beauty goes 
all abroad upon the face of the world. 

There is an influence which I would rather see Massachusetts 
exert on her sisters of this Union, than see her furnish a Presi- - 
dent every twelve years or command a majority on any division 
in Congress ; and that is such an influence as Athens exerted on 
the taste and opinion first of Greece, then of Rome, then of the 
universal modern world ; such as she will exert while the race 
of man exists. This, of all the kinds of empire, was most. grate- 
ful and innocent and glorious and immortal. This was won by 
no bargain, by no fraud, by no war of the Peloponnesus, by the 
shedding of no human blood. It would rest on admiration of the 
beautiful, the good, the true, in art, in poetry, in thought ; and it 
would last while the emotions, its object, were left in a human 
soul. It would turn the eye of America hitherwards with love, 
gratitude, and tears, such as those with which we turn to the 
walk of Socrates beneath the plane-tree, now sere, the summer 
hour of Cicero, the prison into which philosophy descended to 
console the spirit of Boethius, — that room through whose opened 
window came into the ear of Scott, as he died, the murmur of 



86 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

the gentle Tweed, — love, gratitude, and tears, such as we all 
yield to those whose immortal wisdom, whose divine verse, 
whose eloquence of heaven, whose scenes of many-colored life, 
have held up the show of things to the insatiate desires of the 
mind, have taught us how to live and how to die ! Herein 
were power, herein were influence, herein were security. Even 
in the madness of civil w*ar it might survive for refuge and de- 
fence ! R. Choate. 



XXV. 
TEE CITY OF OUR LIBERTY. 

"DUT now that our service of commemoration is ended, let us 
-^ go hence and meditate on all that it has taught us. You 
see how long the holy and beautiful city of our liberty and our 
power has been in building, and by how many hands, and at 
what cost. You see the towering and steadfast height to which 
it has gone up, and how its turrets and spires gleam in the rising 
and setting sun. You stand among the graves of some — your 
townsmen, your fathers by blood, whose names you bear, whose 
portraits hang up in your homes, of whose memory you are 
justly proud — who helped in their day to sink those walls deep 
in their beds, where neither frost nor earthquake might heave 
them, — to raise aloft those great arches of stone, — to send up 
those turrets and spires into the sky. It was theirs to build ; 
remember it is yours, under Providence, to keep the city, — to 
keep it from the sword of the invader, — to keep it from licen- 
tiousness and crime and irreligion, and all that would make it 
unsafe or unfit to live in, — to keep it from the fires of faction, 
of civil strife, of party spirit, that might burn up in a day the 
slow work of a thousand years of glory. Happy, if we shall so 
perform our duty that they who centuries hence shall dwell 
among our graves may be able to remember, on some such day 
as this, in one common service of grateful commemoration, their 
fathers of the first and the second age of America, — those who 
through martyrdom and tempest and battle sought liberty, and 
made her their own, — and those whom neither ease nor luxury, 
nor the fear of man, nor the worship of man, could prevail on to 
barter her away! R. Choate. 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 37 



XXVI. 

SPECIMEN OF TEE ELOQUENCE OF JAMES OTIS. 

T^NGLAND may as well dam up the waters of the Nile with 
-^ bulrushes as to fetter the step of Freedom, more proud and 
firm in this youthful land than where she treads the sequestered 
glens of Scotland, or couches herself among the magnificent 
mountains of Switzerland. Arbitrary principles, like those 
against which we now contend, have cost one king of England 
his life, another his crown ; and they may yet cost a third his 
most flourishing colonies. 

We are two millions — one fifth fighting men. We are bold 
and vigorous, and we call no man master. To the nation, from 
whom we are proud to derive our origin, we ever were, and we 
ever will be, ready to yield unforced assistance ; but it must not, 
and it never can be extorted. 

Some have sneeringly asked, " Are the Americans too poor to 
pay a few pounds on stamped paper ? " No ! America, thanks 
to God and herself, is rich. But the right to take ten pounds, 
implies the right to take a thousand ; and what must be the 
wealth, that avarice, aided by power, cannot exhaust ? True, 
the spectre is now small ; but the shadow he casts before him is 
huge enough to darken all this fair land. Others, in sentimental 
style, tall^ of the immense debt of gratitude which we owe to 
England. And what is the amount of this debt ? Why, truly, 
it is the same that the young lion owes to the dam, which has 
brought it forth on the solitude of the mountain, or left it amid 
the winds and storms of the desert. 

We plunged into the wave, with the great charter of freedom 
in our teeth, because the fagot and the torch were behind us. 
We have waked this New World from its savage lethargy ; for- 
ests have been prostrated in our path ; towns and cities have 
grown up suddenly as the flowers of the tropics, and the fires in 
our autumnal woods are scarcely more rapid than the increase of 
our wealth and population. And do we owe all this to the kind 
succor of the mother-country ? No ! We owe it to the tyranny 
that drove us from her, to the pelting storms which invigorated 
our helpless infancy. 



88 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

But perhaps others will say, " We ask no money from your 
gratitude — we only demand that you should payyour own ex- 
penses." And who, I pray, is to judge of their necessity ? Why, 
the king — (and with all due reverence to his sacred majesty, he 
understands the real wants % of his distant subjects as little as he 
does the language of the Choctaws.) Who is to judge concern- 
ing the frequency of these demands ? The ministry. Who is 
to judge whether the money is properly expended ? The cabi- 
net behind tKe throne. In every instance, those who take are to 
judge for those who pay. If this system is suffered to go into 
operation, we shall have reason to esteem it a great privilege, 
that rain and dew do not depend . upon parliament ; otherwise 
they would soon be taxed and dried. 

But, thanks Jo God, there is freedom enough left upon earth 
to resist such monstrous injustice. The flame of liberty is ex- 
tinguished in Greece and Rome, but the light of its glowing 
embers is still bright and strong on the shores of America. Ac- 
tuated by its sacred influence, we will resist unto death. But 
we will not countenance anarchy and misrule. The wrongs that 
a desperate community have heaped upon their enemies, shall 
be amply and speedily repaired. Still, it may be well for some 
proud men to remember that a fire is lighted in these colonies, 
which one breath of their king may kindle into such fury that 
the blood of all England cannot extinguish it. Mrs. M. L. Child. 



xxvn. 

WEBSTER IN THE DARTMOUTH COLLEGE CASE. 

r.l^HE Dartmouth College case forms an important era in Mr. 
Webster's life. His argument in that case stands out 
among his other arguments, as his speech in reply to Mr. Hayne, 
among his other speeches. No better argument has been spoken 
in the English tongue in the memory of any living man, nor is 
the child that is born to-day likely to live to hear a better. Its 
learning is ample but not ostentatious ; its logic irresistible ; its 
eloquence vigorous and lofty. Judge Story often spoke with 
great animation of the effect he then produced upon the court. 
" For the first hour," said he, " we listened to him with perfect 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 39 

astonishment ; for the second hour, with perfect delight ; and for 
the third hour with perfect conviction." It is not too much to 
say that he entered the court on that day a comparatively un- 
known name, and left it with no rival but Pinkney. All the 
words he spoke on that occasion have not been recorded. 
When he had exhausted the resources of learning and logic, hia 
mind passed naturally and simply into a strain of feeling not 
common to the place. Old recollections and early associations 
came over him, and the vision of his youth rose up. 

The genius of the institution where he was nurtured seemed 
standing by his side in weeds of mourning, with a countenance 
of sorrow. With suffused eyes, and faltering voice, he broke 
into an unpremeditated strain of emotion, so strong and so deep, 
that all who heard him were borne along with it. Heart an- 
swered to heart as 'he spoke, and, when he ceased, the silence 
and tears of the impassive bench, as well as of the excited audi- 
ence, were a tribute to the truth and power of the feeling by 
which he had been inspired. G. S. Hillard. 



xxvm. 
. THE AMBITION OF WEBSTER. 

1\/rR. WEBSTER was an ambitious man. He desired the 
highest office in the gift of the people. But on this sub- 
ject, as on all others, there was no concealment in his nature. 
And ambition is not a weakness unless it be disproportioned to 
the capacity. To have more ambition than ability is to be at 
once weak and unhappy. With him it was a noble passion, 
because it rested upon noble powers. He was a man cast in a 
heroic mould. His thoughts, his wishes, his passions, his aspira- 
tions, were all on a grander scale than those of other men. Un- 
exercised capacity is always a source of rusting discontent. 
The height to which men may rise is in proportion to the 
upward force of their genius, and they will never be calm till 
.they have attained their predestined elevation. Lord Bacon 
says, "as in nature things move violently to their place and 
calmly in their place, so virtue in ambition is violent, in author- 
ity, settled and calm." Mr. Webster had a giant's brain and a 



40 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

giant's heart, and he wanted a giant's work. He found repose 
in those strong conflicts and great duties whiqji crush the weak 
and madden the sensitive. He thought that, if he were elevated 
to the highest place, he should so administer the government as 
to make the country honored abroad, and great and happy at 
home. He thought, too, that he could do something to make us 
more truly one people. This, above everything else, was his 
ambition. And we, who knew him better than others, felt that 
it was a prophetic ambition, and we honored and trusted -him 
accordingly. G. S. Eillard. 



xxrx. 

TEE DANGER OF EXCLUSIVE, DEVOTION TO BUSINESS. 

t I ^HIS is a world of inflexible compensations. Nothing is 
ever given away, but everything is bought and paid for. 
If, by exclusive and absolute surrender of ourselves to material 
pursuits, we materialize the mind, we lose that class of satisfac- 
tions of which the mind is the region and the source. A young 
man in business, for instance, begins to feel the exhilarating glow 
of success, and deliberately determines to abandon himself to its 
delirious whirl. He says to himself, I will think of nothing but 
business till I shall have made so much money, and then I will 
begin a new life. I will gather round me books and pictures 
and friends. I will have knowledge, taste, and cultivation, — 
the perfume of scholarship, and winning speech, and graceful 
manners. I will see foreign countries, and converse with ac- 
complished men. I will drink deep of the fountains of classic 
lore. Philosophy shall guide me, history shall instruct, and 
poetry shall charm me. Science shall open to me her world of 
wonders. I shall remember my present life of drudgery as one 
recalls a troubled dream when the morning has dawned. 

He keeps his self-registered vow. He bends his thoughts 
downward and nails them to the dust. Every power, every 
affection, every taste, except those which his particular occupa- 
tion calls into play, is left to starve. Over the gates of his mind 
he writes in letters which he who runs may read, " No admittance 
except on business." In time he reaches the goal of his hopes ; 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 41 

but now insulted Nature begins to claim her revenge. That 
which was once unnatural is now natural to him. The enforced 
constraint has become a rigid deformity. The spring of his mind 
is broken. He can no longer lift his mind from the ground. 
Books and knowledge and wise discourse, and the amenities of 
art, and the cordial of friendship, are like words in a strange 
tongue. To the hard, smooth surface of his soul, nothing genial, 
graceful, or winning will cling ; he cannot even purge his voice 
of its fawning tone, or pluck from his face the mean money- 
getting mask which the child does not look at without ceasing to 
smile. Amid the graces and ornaments of wealth, he is like a 
blind man in a picture-gallery. That which he has done he 
must continue to do. He must accumulate riches which he can- 
not enjoy, and contemplate the dreary prospect of growing old 
without anything to make age venerable or attractive ; for age 
without wisdom and without .knowledge is the winter's cold 
without the winter's fire. G. S. Hillard. 



XXX. 

SPEECH OF PATRICK HENRY, IN THE CONVENTION OF 
DELEGATES OF VIRGINIA, If ARCH, 1775. 

IV/fR- PRESIDENT, — It is natural for man to indulge in 
the illusions of hope. We are apt to shut our eyes against 
a painful truth, and listen to the song of that siren till she trans- 
forms us into beasts. Is this the part of wise men, engaged in 
the great and arduous struggle for liberty ? Are we disposed 
to be of the number of those, who, having eyes, see not, and hav- 
ing ears, hear not, the things which so nearly concern their tem- 
poral salvation ? For my part, whatever anguish of spirit it 
may cost, I am willing to know the whole truth, — to know the 
worst, and to provide for it. 

I have but one lamp by which my feet are guided ; and that 
is the lamp of experience. I know of no way of judging of the 
future but by the past. And judging by the past, I wish to 
know, what there has been in the conduct of the British ministry, 
for the last ten years, to justify those hopes with which gentle- 
men have been pleased to solace themselves and the House. Is 
it that insidious smile with which our petition has been lately 



42 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

received ? Trust it not, sir ; it will prove a snare to your feet. 
Suffer not yourselves to be betrayed with a kiss ! Ask your- 
selves how this gracious reception of our petition comports with 
those warlike preparations, which cover our waters and darken 
our land. Are fleets and armies necessary to a work of love and 
reconciliation ! Have we shown ourselves so unwilling to be 
reconciled, # that force must be called in to win back our love ! 
Let us not deceive ourselves, sir. These are the implements of 
war and subjugation, — the last arguments to which kings resort. 
I ask gentlemen, sir, what means this martial array if its purpose 
be not to force us to submission ? Can gentlemen assign any 
other possible motive for it ? Has Great Britain any enemy in 
this quarter of the world, to call for all this accumulation of na- 
vies and armies ? No, sir, she has none. They are meant for us ; 
they can be meant for no other. They are sent over to bind 
and rivet upon us those chains which the British ministers have 
been so long forging. 

And what have we to oppose to them ? — Shall we try argu- 
ment? Sir, we have been trying that for the last ten years. 
Have we anything new to offer on the subject ? Nothing. We 
have held the subject up in every light of which it is capable ; 
but it has been all in vain. Shall we resort to entreaty and 
humble supplication ? What terms shall we find which have 
not been already exhausted ? Let us not, I beseech you, sir, 
deceive ourselves longer. Sir, we have done everything that 
could be done to avert the storm which is now coming on. We 
have petitioned, — we have remonstrated, — we have suppli- 
cated, — we have prostrated ourselves before the throne, and 
have implored its interposition to arrest the tyrannical hands 
of the ministry and Parliament. Our petitions have been 
slighted ; our remonstrances have produced additional violence 
and insult ; our supplications have been disregarded ; and we 
have been spurned from the foot of the throne. 

In vain, after these things, may we indulge the fond hope of 
peace and reconciliation. There is no longer any room for hope. 
If we wish to be free, — if we mean to preserve inviolate those 
inestimable privileges for which we have been so long contend- 
ing, — if we mean not basely to abandon the noble struggle in 
which we have been so long engaged, and which we have 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 43 

pledged ourselves never to abandon until the glorious object of 
our contest shall be obtained, — we must fight ; I repeat it, sir, 
we must fight ! An appeal to arms and to the God of Hosts, is 
all that is left us ! 



XXXI. 

TEE SAME CONCLUDED. 

PT^IIEY tell us, sir, that we are weak, — unable to cope 
with so formidable an adversary. But when shall we be 
stronger ? Will it be the next week, or the next year ? Will it 
be when we are totally disarmed ; and when a British guard 
shall be stationed in every house ? Shall we gather strength by 
irresolution and inaction ? Shall we acquire the means of 
effectual resistance by lying supinely on our backs, and hugging 
the delusive phantom of hope, until our enemies shall have bound 
us hand and foot ? 

Sir, we are not weak, if we make a proper use of those means 
which the God of nature hath placed in our power. Three mil- 
lions of people armed in the holy cause of liberty, and in such 
a country as that which we possess, are invincible by any force 
which our enemy can send against us. Besides, sir, we shall 
not fight alone. There is a just God who presides over the des- 
tinies of nations, and who will raise up friends to fight our battles 
for us. 

The battle, sir, is not to the strong alone, — it is to the active, 
the vigilant, the brave. Besides, sir, we have no election ! If 
we were base enough to desire it, it is now too late to retire 
from the contest. There is no retreat, — but in submission and 
slavery ! Our chains are forged. Their clanking may be heard . 
on the plains of Boston. The war is inevitable, — and let it 
come ! I repeat it, sir, let it come. 

It is in vain, sir, to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen may 
cry peace ! peace ! — but there is no peace. The war is actually 
begun ! The next gale that sweeps from the north will bring to 
our ears the clash of resounding arms ! Our brethren are 
already in the field. Why stand we here idle ? W r hat is it that 
gentlemen wish ? What would they have ? Is life so dear, or 



44 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

peace so sweet as to be purchased at the price of chains and 
slavery ? Forbid it, Heaven ! — I know not what course others 
may take, but as for me, — give me liberty, or give me death J 



XXXII. 
REPLY TO THE DUKE OF GRAFTON. 

1%/F Y Lords, I am amazed ; yes, my Lords, I am amazed at his 
Grace's speech. The noble Duke cannot look before him, 
behind him, or on either side of him, without seeing some noble 
peer who owes his seat in this House to his successful exertion 
in the profession to which I belong. Does he not feel that it is 
as honorable to owe it to these, as to being the accident of an 
accident ? To all these noble Lords, the language of the noble 
Duke is as applicable and insulting as it is to myself. But I do 
not fear to meet it single and alone. No one venerates the peer- 
age more than I do ; but, my Lords, I must say, that the peerage 
solicited me, not I the peerage. 

Nay, more ; I can say, and will say, that as a Peer of Parlia- 
ment, as a Speaker of this right honorable House, as Keeper of 
the Great Seal, as Guardian of his Majesty's conscience, as Lord 
High Chancellor of England, — nay, even in that character alone, 
in which the noble Duke would think it an affront to be considered, 
but which character none can deny me, — as a man, — I am, at 
this moment, as respectable, — I beg to leave add, I am as much 
respected, — as the proudest peer I now look down upon. 

Lord Thurlow. 



XXXIII. 
THE PROSPECTS OF CALIFORNIA. 

TUDGING from the past, what have we not a right to expect 
•^ in the future. The world has never witnessed anything 
equal or similar to our career hitherto. Scarcely two years ago, 
California was almost an unoccupied wild. With the exception 
of a presidium, a mission, a pueblo, or a lonely ranch, scattered 
here and there, at tiresome distances, there was nothing to show 
that the uniform stillness had ever been broken by the foot- 
steps of civilized man. The agricultural richness of her valleys 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 45 

remained unimproved ; and the wealth of a world lay entombed 
in the bosom of her solitary mountains, and on the banks of her 
unexplored streams. Behold the contrast ! The hand of agri- 
culture is now busy in every fertile valley, and its^ toils are 
remunerated with rewards which in no other portion of the world 
can be credited. Enterprise has pierced every hill, for hidden 
treasure, and has heaped up enormous gains. Cities and villages 
dot the surface of the whole State. Steamers dart along our 
rivers, and innumerable vessels spread their white wings over 
our bays. Not Constantinople, upon which the wealth of impe- 
rial Home was lavished, — not St. Petersburg, to found which 
the arbitrary Czar sacrificed thousands of his subjects, — would 
rival, in rapidity of growth, the fair city which lies before me. 
Our State is a marvel to ourselve^ and a miracle to the rest of 
the world. Nor is the influence of California confined within 
her own borders. Mexico, and the islands nestled in the em- 
brace of the Pacific, have felt the quickening breath of her 
enterprise. "With her golden wand, she has touched the pros- 
trate corpse of South American industry, and it has sprung up 
in the freshness of life. She has caused the hum of busy life to 
be heard in the wilderness " where rolls the Oregon," and but 
recently heard no sound, " save its own dashings." Even the 
wall of Chinese exclusiveness has been broken down, and the 
children of the sun have come forth to view the splendor of her 
achievements. 

But, flattering as has been the past, satisfactory as is the pres- 
ent, it is but a foretaste of the future. It is a trite saying, that 
we live in an age of great events. Nothing can be more true. 
But the greatest of all events of the present age is at hand. It 
needs not the gift of prophecy to predict, that the course of the 
world's trade is destined soon to be changed. But a few years 
can elapse before the commerce of Asia and the islands of the 
Pacific, instead of pursuing the ocean track, by way of Cape 
Horn or the Cape of Good Hope, or even taking the shorter 
route of the Isthmus of Darien, or the Isthmus of Tehuantepec, 
will enter the Golden Gate of California, and deposit its riches in 
our own city. Hence, on bars of iron, and propelled by steam, 
it will ascend the mountains and traverse the desert ; and having 
again reached the confines of civilization, will be distributed, 



46 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

through a thousand channels, to every portion of the Union and 
of Europe. New York will then become what London now is, — 
the great central point of exchange, the heart of trade, the force 
of whose contraction and expansion will be felt throughout every 
artery of the commercial world ; and San Francisco will then 
stand the second city of America. Is this visionary ? Twenty 
years will determine. 

The world is interested in our success ; for a fresh field is 
opened to its commerce, and a new avenue to the civilization and 
progress of the human race. Let us, then, endeavor to realize 
the hopes of Americans, and the expectations of the world. Let 
us not only be united amongst ourselves, for our own local wel- 
fare, but let us strive to cement the common bonds of brother- 
hood of the whole Union. Jn our relations to the Federal 
Government, let us know no South, no North, no East, no 
West. Wherever American liberty flourishes, let that be our 
common country! Wherever the American banner waves, let 

that be our home ! Nathaniel Bennett. 



XXXIV. 

IN PROSPECT OF WAR. 

f~^ O forth, defenders of your country, accompanied with every 
^^ auspicious omen; advance with alacrity into the field r where 
God himself musters the hosts to war. Religion is too much 
interested in your success not to lend you her aid. She will shed 
over your enterprise her selectest influence. While you are en- 
gaged in the field, many will repair to the closet, many to the 
sanctuary ; the faithful of every name will employ that prayer 
which has power with God ; the feeble hands which are unequal 
to any other weapon, will grasp the sword of the Spirit ; and, 
from myriads of humble, contrite hearts, the voice of intercession, 
supplication, and weeping, will mingle, in its ascent to heaven, 
with the shouts of battle and the shock of arms. 

While you have everything to fear* from the success of the 
enemy, you have every means of preventing that success ; so 
that it is next to impossible for victory not to crown your exer- 
tions. The extent of your resources, under God, is equal to the 
justice of your cause. But, should Providence determine other- 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 47 

wise, — should you fall in (his struggle, should the nation fall, — 
you will have the satisfaction (the purest allotted to man), of 
having performed your part ; — your names will be enrolled with 
the most illustrious dead, while posterity, to the end of time, as 
often as they revolve the events of this period (and they will 
incessantly revolve them), will turn to you a reverential eye, 
while they mourn over the freedom which is entombed in your 
sepulchre. 

I cannot but imagine the virtuous heroes, legislators, and pa- 
triots of every age and country, are bending from their elevated 
seats to witness this contest, as if they were incapable, till it be 
brought to a favorable issue, of enjoying their eternal repose. 
Enjoy that repose, illustrious immortals! Your mantle fell when 
you ascended ; and thousands, inflamed with your spirit, and 
impatient to tread in your steps, are ready to swear, by Him that 
sitteth on the throne, and llveth forever and ever, that they will 
protect freedom in her last asylum, and never desert her cause, 
which you sustained by your labors, and cemented with your 
blood ! Robert Hall. 



XXXV. 
THE AMERICAN INDIANS. 

TF the Indians had the vices of savage life, they had the vir- 
tues also. They were true to their country, their friends, 
and their homes. If they forgave not injury, neither did they 
forget kindness. If their vengeance was terrible, their fidelity 
and generosity were unconquerable also. Their love, like their 
hate, stopped not on this side of the grave. But where are 
they ? Where are the villages, and warriors, and youth ? The 
sachems and the tribes ? The hunters and their families ? They 
have perished. They are consumed. The wasting pestilence 
has not alone done the mighty work. No, — nor famine, nor 
war. There has been a mightier power, a moral canker, which 
hath eaten into their heart-cores, — a plague which the touch of 
the white man communicated, — a poison, which betrayed them 
into a lingering ruin. The winds of the Atlantic fan not a single 
region which they may now call their own. Already the last 
feeble remnants of the race are preparing for their journey be- 



48 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

yond the Mississippi. I see them leave their miserable homes, — 
the aged, the helpless, the women, and the warriors, " few and 
faint, yet fearless still." The ashes are cold on their native 
hearths. The smoke no longer curls round their lowly cabins. 
They move on with a slow, unsteady step. The white man is 
upon their heels, for terror or dispatch ; but they heed him not. 
They turn to take a last look of their deserted villages. They 
cast a last glance upon the graves of their fathers. They shed 
no tears ; they utter no cries ; they heave no groans. There is 
something in their hearts which passes speech. There is some- 
thing in their looks, not of vengeance or submission, but of hard 
necessity, which stifles both ; which chokes all utterance ; which 
has no aim or method. It is courage absorbed in despair. They 
linger but for a moment. Their look is onward. They have 
passed the fatal stream. It shall never be repassed by them, — 
no, never. Yet there lies not between us and them an impas- 
sible gulf. They know and feel, that for them there is still one 
remove farther, not distant, nor unseen. It is the general bury- 
ing-ground of their race. J. Story. 



XXXVI. 

CLASSICAL LEARNING. 

rp'HE importance of classical learning to professional educa- 
tion is so obvious, that the surprise is, that it could ever 
have become matter of disputation. I speak not of its power in 
refining the taste, in disciplining the judgment, in invigorating the 
understanding, or in warming the heart with elevated sentiments ; 
but of its power of direct, positive, necessary instruction. 

There is not a single nation from the north to the south of 
Europe, from the bleak shores of the Baltic to the bright plains 
of immortal Italy, whose literature is not embedded in the very 
elements of classical learning. The literature of England is, in 
an emphatic sense, the production of her scholars ; of men who 
have cultivated letters in her universities, and colleges, and gram- 
mar-schools ; of men who thought any life too short, chiefly 
because it left some relic of antiquity unmastered, and any other 
fame too humble, because it faded in the presence of Roman and 
Grecian genius. 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 49 

He who studies English literature without the lights of clas- 
sical learning, loses half the charms of its sentiments and style, 
of Its force and feelings, of its delicate touches, of its delightful 
allusions, of its illustrative associations. Who that reads the 
poetry of Gray, does not feel that it is the refinement of classical 
bate which gives such inexpressible vividness and transparency 
to his diction ? "Who that reads the concentrated sense and 
melodious versification of Dryden and Pope, does not perceive in 
them the disciples of the old school, whose genius was inflamed 
by the heroic verse, the terse satire, and the playful wit of an- 
tiquity ? Who that meditates over the strains of Milton does 
not feel that he drank deep at 

" Siloa's brook, that flowed 
Fast by the oracle of God, " 

that the fires of his magnificent mind were lighted by coals from 
ancient altars ? 

It is no exaggeration to declare, that he who proposes to abol- 
ish classical studies, proposes to render, in a great measure, 
inert and unedifying, the mass of English literature for three 
centuries ; to rob us of the glory of the past, and much of the 
instruction of future ages ; to blind us to excellencies which few 
may hope to equal, and none to surpass ; to annihilate associa- 
tions which are interwoven with our best sentiments, and give to 
distant times and countries a presence and reality, as if they 
were in fact his own. /. Story. 



xxxvn. 
AN APPEAL IN BEHALF OF PATRIOTISM AND LOT ALT 7. 

f CALL upon you, fathers, by the shades of your ancestors, by 
- 1 - the dear ashes which repose in this precious soil, by all you 
are, and all you hope to be ; resist every object of disunion, resist 
every encroachment upon your liberties, resist every attempt to 
fetter your consciences, or smother your public schools, or extin- 
guish your system of public instruction. 

I call upon you, mothers, by that which never fails in woman, — 
the love of your offspring, — teach them as they climb your knees, 
or lean on jour bosoms, the blessings of liberty. Swear them at 
4 



50 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

the altar, as with their baptismal vows, to be true to their coun- 
try, and never to forget or forsake her. 

I call upon you, young men, to remember whose sons you are ; 
whose inheritance you possess. Life can never be too short 
which brings nothing but disgrace and oppression. Death never 
comes too soon, if necessary in defence of the liberties of your 
country. I call upon you, old men, for your counsels, and your 
prayers, and your benedictions. May not your gray hairs go 
down in sorrow to the grave, with the recollection that you have 
lived in vain. May not your last sun sink in the west upon a 
nation of slaves. 

No ; — I read in the destiny of my country far better hopes, 
far brighter visions. We, who are now assembled here, must 
soon be gathered to the congregation of other days. The time 
of our departure is at hand, to make way for our children upon 
the theatre of life. May God speed them and theirs. May he, 
who at the distance of another century shall stand here to cele- 
brate this day, still look round upon a free, happy, and virtuous 
people. May he have reason to exult as we do. May he, with 
all the enthusiasm of truth as well as poetry, exclaim that here 
is still his country. J. Story. 



xxxvrn. 
OUR DUTIES TO THE REPUBLIC. 

HHHE Old World has already revealed to us, in its unsealed 
books, the beginning and end of all its own marvellous 
struggles in the cause of liberty. Greece, lovely Greece, 

" The land of scholars and the nurse of arms," 

where sister republics, in fair procession, chanted the praises of 
liberty and the gods, — where and what is she ? For two 
thousand years the oppressor has ground her to the earth. Her 
arts are no more. The last sad relics of her temples are but 
the barracks of a ruthless soldiery. The fragments of her col- 
umns and her palaces are in the dust, yet beautiful in ruins. 
She fell not when the mighty were upon her. Her sons were 
united at Thermopylae and Marathon ; and the tide of her tri- 
umph rolled back upon the Hellespont. She was conquered by 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 51 

her own factions. She fell by the hands of her own people. 
The Man of Macedonia did not the work of destruction. It was 
already done by her own corruptions, banishments, and dissen- 
sions. Rome, republican Rome, whose eaglee glanced in the 
rising and sotting sun, — where and what is she? The eternal 
city yet remains, proud even in her desolation, noble in her 
decline, venerable in the majesty of religion, and calm as in the 
composure of death. The malaria has travelled in the paths 
worn by her destroyers. More than eighteen centuries have 
mourned over the loss of her empire. A mortal disease was 
upon her vitals before Caesar had crossed the Rubicon ; and 
Brutus did not restore her health by the deep probings of the 
senate-chamber. The Goths, and Vandals, and Huns, — the 
swarms of the North, — completed only what was already begun 
at home. Romans betrayed Rome. The legions were bought 
and sold ; but the people offered the tribute-money. 

We stand the latest, and, if we fail, probably the last experi- 
ment of self-government by the people. We have begun it 
under circumstances of the most auspicious nature. We are in 
the vigor of youth. Our growth has never been checked by the 
oppressions of tyranny. Our constitutions * have never been 
enfeebled by the vices or luxuries of the Old World. Such as 
we are, we have been from the beginning, — simple, hardy, intel- 
ligent, accustomed to self-government, and to self-respect. The 
Atlantic rolls between us and any formidable foe. Within our 
own territory, stretching through many degrees of latitude and 
longitude, we have the choice of many products, and many 
means of independence. The government is mild. The press 
is free. Religion is free. Knowledge reaches, or may reach 
every home. What fairer prospect of success could be pre- 
sented ? What means more adequate to accomplish the sublime 
end ? What more is necessary than for the people to preserve 
what they have themselves created? Already has the age 
caught the spirit of our institutions. It has already ascended 
the Andes, and snuffed the breezes of both oceans. It has in- 
fused itself into the life-blood of Europe, and warmed the sunny 
plains of France and the lowlands of Holland. It has touched 
the philosophy of Germany and the North ; and, moving onward 
to the South, has opened to Greece the lessons of her better 



52 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

days. Can it be that America, under such circumstances, can 
betray herself? Can it be that she is to be added to the cata- 
logue of republics, the inscription upon whose ruins is : They 
were, but they a.re not ? Forbid it, my countrymen ! For- 
bid it, Heaven ! /. Story. 



XXXIX. 

SP ART AC US TO THE GLADIATORS. 

TT had been a day of triumph at Capua. Lentulus, returning 
A with victorious eagles, had amused the populace with the 
sports of the amphitheatre, to an extent hitherto unknown even 
in that luxurious city. The shouts of revelry had died away ; 
the roar of the lion had ceased ; the last loiterer had retired 
from the banquet, and the lights in the palace of the victor were 
extinguished. The moon, piercing the tissue of fleecy clouds, 
silvered the dew-drop on the corselet of the Roman sentinel, and 
tipped the dark waters of Volturnus with wavy, tremulous light. 
It was a night of holy calm, when the zephyr sways the young 
spring leaves, and whispers among the hollow reeds its dreamy 
music. No sound was heard but the last sob of some weary 
wave, telling its story to the smooth pebbles of the beach, and 
then all was still as the breast when the spirit has departed. 

In the deep recesses of the amphitheatre, a band of gladiators 
were crowded together, — their muscles still knotted with the 
agony of conflict, the foam upon their lips, and the scowl of bat- 
tle yet lingering upon their brows, — when Spartacus, rising in 
the midst of that grim assemblage, thus addressed them : — 

" Ye call me chief, and ye do well to call him chief, who, for 
twelve long years, has met upon the arena every shape of man 
or beast that the broad empire of Rome could furnish, and yet 
never has lowered his arm. And if there be one among you 
who can say that, ever, in public fight or private brawl, my ac- 
tions did belie my tongue, let him step forth and say it. If there 
be three in all your throng dare face me on the bloody sand, let 
them come on! 

" Yet I was not always thus, a hired butcher, a savage chief 
of savage men. My father was a reverent man, who feared 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 53 

great Jupiter, and brought the rural deities his offerings of fruits 
and flowers, lie dwelt among the vine-elad roeks and olive 
groves at the foot of Helicon. My early life ran quiet as the 
brook by which I sported. I was taught to prune the vine, to 
tend the flock ; and then, at noon, I gathered my sheep beneath 
the shade, and played upon the shepherd's flute. I had a friend, 
the son of our neighbor ; we led our flocks to the same pasture, 
and shared together our rustic meal. 

" One evening, after the sheep were folded, and we were all 
seated beneath the myrtle that shaded our cottage, my grandsire, 
an old man, was telling of Marathon and Leuctra, and how, in 
ancient times, a little band of Spartans, in a defile of the moun- 
tains, withstood a whole army. I did not then know what war 
meant ; but my cheeks burned, I knew not why ; and I clasped 
the hand of that venerable man, till my mother, parting the hair 
from off my brow, kissed my throbbing temples, and bade me go 
to rest, and think no more of those old tales and savage wars. 

" That very night the Romans landed on our shore, and the 
clash of steel was heard within our quiet vale. I saw the breast 
that had nourished me trampled by the iron hoof of the war- 
horse ; the bleeding body of my father flung amid the blazing 
rafters of our dwelling. To-day I killed a man in the arena, and 
when I broke his helmet clasps, behold ! — it was my friend ! 
He knew me, — smiled faintly, — gasped, — and died. The same 
sweet smile that I had marked upon his face, when, in adven- 
turous boyhood, we scaled some lofty cliff to pluck the first ripe 
grapes, and bear them home in childish triumph. I told the 
Praetor he was my friend, noble and brave, and I begged his 
body, that I might burn it upon the funeral-pile, and mourn over 
him. Ay, upon my knees, amid the dust and blood of the arena, 
I begged that boon, while all the Roman maids and matrons, and 
those holy virgins they call vestal, and the rabble, shouted in 
mockery, deeming it rare sport, forsooth, to see Rome's fiercest 
gladiator turn pale, and tremble like a very child, before that 
piece of bleeding clay ; but the Praetor drew back as if I were 
pollution, and sternly said, ' Let the carrion rot ! There are no 
noble men but Romans ! ' And he, deprived of funeral rites, 
must wander, a hapless ghost, beside the waters of that sluggish 
river, and look — and look — and look in vain to the bright 



54 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

Elysian fields where dwell his ancestors and noble kindred. 
And so must you, and so must I, die like dogs ! 

" O Rome ! Rome ! thou hast been a tender nurse to me ! 
Ay, thou hast given to that poor, gentle, timid shepherd-lad, who 
never knew a harsher sound than a flute-note, muscles of iron, 
and a heart of flint ; taught him to drive the sword through 
rugged brass and plaited mail, and warm it in the marrow of his 
foe. ! — to gaze into the glaring eyeballs of the fierce Numidian 
lion, even as a smooth-cheeked boy upon a laughing girl. And 
he shall pay thee back till thy yellow Tiber is red as frothing 
wine, and in its deepest ooze thy life-blood lies curdled ! 

u Ye stand here now like giants, as ye are ! the strength of 
brass in your toughened sinews ; but to-morrow some Roman 
Adonis, breathing sweet odors from his curly locks, shall come, 
and with his lily fingers pat your brawny shoulders, and bet his 
sesterces upon your blood ! Hark ! Hear ye yon lion roaring 
in his den ? 'Tis three days since he tasted meat ; but to- 
morrow he shall break his fast upon your flesh ; and ye shall be 
a dainty meal for him. 

" If ye are brutes, then stand here like fat oxen waiting for the 
butcher's knife ; if ye are men, follow me ! strike down yon sen- 
tinel, and gain the mountain passes, and there do bloody work as 
did your sires at old Thermopylae ! Is Sparta dead ? Is the old 
Grecian spirit frozen in your veins, that ye do crouch and cower 
like base-born slaves, beneath your master's lash ? O ! com- 
rades ! warriors ! Thracians ! if we must fight, let us fight for 
ourselves ; if we must slaughter, let us slaughter our oppressors ; 
if we must die, let us die under the open sky, by the bright 
waters, in noble, honorable battle. E. Kellogg. 



XL. 

NO EXTENSION OF SLAVE TERRITORY. 

li/TR. CHAIRMAN, I have no time to discuss the subject of 
-*-"-*- slavery on this occasion, nor should I desire to discuss it 
in this connection, if I had more time. But I must not omit a 
few plain words on the momentous issue which has now been 
raised. I speak for Massachusetts — I believe I speak the sen- 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 55 

timents of all New England, and of many other States out of 
New England — when I say, that, upon this question, our minds 
are made up. So far as we have power — constitutional or 
moral power — to control political events, we are resolved that 
there shall be no further extension of the territory of this Union, 
subject to the institution of slavery. This is not a matter to 
argue about with us. My honorable friend from Georgia (Mr. 
Toombs) must pardon me if I do not enter into any question 
with him whether such a policy be equal or just. It may be 
that the North does not consider the institution of slavery a fit 
thing to be the subject of equal distribution or nice weighing in 
the balances. I cannot agree with him that the South gains 
nothing by the Constitution but the right to reclaim fugitives. 
Surely he has forgotten that slavery is the basis of representa- 
tion in this House. 

But I do not intend to argue the case. I wish to deal with 
it calmly, but explicitly. I believe the North is ready to stand 
by the Constitution with all its compromises, as it now is. I do 
not intend, moreover, to throw out any threats of disunion, what- 
ever may be the result. I do not intend, now or ever, to con- 
template disunion as a cure for any imaginable evil. At the 
same time I do not intend to be driven from a firm expression of 
purpose, and a steadfast adherence to principle, by any threats 
of disunion from any other quarter. The people of New Eng- 
land, whom I have any privilege to speak for, do not desire, as I 
understand their views, — I know my own heart and my own 
principles, and can at least speak for them, — to gain one foot of 
territory by conquest, and as the result of the prosecution of the 
war with Mexico. I do not believe that even the abolitionists 
of the North, — though I am one of the last persons who would 
be entitled to speak their sentiments, — would be unwilling to be 
found in combination with Southern gentlemen, who may see fit 
to espouse this doctrine. We desire peace. We believe that 
this war ought never to have been commenced, and we do not 
wish to have it made the pretext for plundering Mexico of one 
foot of her lands. But if the war is to be prosecuted, and if 
territories are to be conquered and annexed, we shall stand fast 
and forever to the principle that, so far as we are concerned, 
these territories shall be the exclusive abode of freemen. 

R. C. Winthrqp. 



5C THE UNION SPEAKER. 

XLI. 
NATIONAL MONUMENT TO WASHINGTON. 

"OELLOW-CITIZENS ! Let us seize this occasion to renew 
■*- to each other our vows of allegiance and devotion to the 
American Union ; and let us recognize in our common title to 
the name and fame of Washington, and, in our common venera- 
tion for his example and his advice, the all-sufficient centripetal 
power, which shall hold the thick clustering stars of our con- 
federacy in one glorious constellation forever ! Let the column 
which we are about to construct, be at once a pledge and an 
emblem of perpetual union ! Let the foundations be laid, let the 
superstructure be built up and cemented, let each stone be raised 
and ri vetted, in a spirit of national brotherhood ! Aoid may the 
earliest ray of the rising sun — till that sun shall set to rise no 
more — draw forth from it daily, as from the fabled statue of 
antiquity, a strain of national harmony, which shall strike a 
responsive chord in every heart throughout the Republic ! 

Proceed, then, fellow-citizens, with the work for which you 
have assembled. Lay the corner-stone of a monument which 
shall adequately bespeak the gratitude of the whole American 
people to the illustrious Father of his country ! Build it to the 
skies ; you cannot 'outreach the loftiness of his principles ! Found 
it upon the massive and eternal rock ; you cannot make it more 
enduring than his fame ! Construct it of the peerless Parian 
marble ; you cannot make it purer than his life ! Exhaust upon 
it the rules and principles of ancient and modern art ; you can- 
not make it more proportionate than his character ! 

But let not your homage to his memory end here. Think not 
to transfer to a tablet or a column the tribute which is due from 
yourselves. Just honor to Washington can only be rendered by 
observing his precepts and imitating his example. He has built 
his own monument. We and those who come after us, in succes- 
sive generations, are its appointed, its privileged guardians. 

The wide-spread Republic is the true monument to Washing- 
ton. Maintain its Independence. Uphold its Constitution. Pre- 
serve its Union. Defend its Liberty. Let it stand before the 
world in all its original strength and beauty, securing peace, 
order, equality, and freedom to all within its boundaries, and 



STANDARD SELECHON& 57 

flhedding light, and hope, and joy, upon the pathway of human 
liberty throughout the world; and Washington needs no other 
monument Other structures may fitly testify our veneration for 

him; this, this alone, can adequately illustrate his services to 
mankind. 

Nor does lie need even this. The Republic may perish ; the 
wide arch of our ranged Union may fall ; star by star its glories 
may expire ; stone by stone its columns and its capitol may 
moulder and crumble ; all other names which adorn its annals 
may be forgotten; — but as long as human hearts shall any- 
where pant, or human tongues shall anywhere plead, for a true, 
rational, constitutional liberty, those hearts shall enshrine the 
memory, and those tongues prolong the fame, of George Wash- 
ington ! R- C. Winthrop. 



XLII. 
THE PERFECT ORATOR. 

TMAGINE to yourselves a Demosthenes, addressing the most 
illustrious assembly in the world, upon a point whereon the 
fate of the most illustrious of nations depended. How awful 
such a meeting ! How vast the subject ! Is man possessed of 
talents adequate to the great occasion ? Adequate ! Yes, supe- 
rior. By the power of his eloquence, the augustness of the 
assembly is lost in the dignity of the orator ; and the importance 
of the subject, for awhile, superseded by the admiration of his 
talents. With what strength of argument, with what powers of 
the fancy, with what emotions of the heart, does he assault and 
subjugate the whole man ; and, at once, captivate his reason, his 
imagination, and his passions ! To effect this must be the utmost 
effort of the most improved state of human nature, — not a 
faculty that he possesses is here unemployed ; not a faculty that 
he possesses but is here exerted to its highest pitch. All his 
internal powers are at work ; all his external testify their ener- 
gies. "Within, the memory, the fancy, the judgment, the pas- 
sions, are all busy ; without, every muscle, every nerve, is 
exerted ; not a feature, not a limb but speaks. The organs 
of the body attuned to the exertions of the mind through the 
kindred organs of the hearers, instantaneously vibrate those 



58 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

energies from soul to soul. Notwithstanding the diversity of 
minds in such a multitude, by the lightning of eloquence, they 
are melted into one mass, — the whole assembly, actuated in one 
and the same way, become, as it were, but one man, and have 
but one voice. The universal cry is, — Let us march against 
Philip ; let us fight for our liberties ; — let us con- 
quer OR DIE ! 



XLIII. 
NECESSITY OF A PURE NATIONAL MORALITY. 

ri^HE crisis has come. By the people of this generation, by 
ourselves, probably, the amazing question is to be decided, 
— whether the inheritance of our fathers shall be preserved or 
thrown away; whether our Sabbaths shall be a delight or a 
loathing ; whether the taverns, on that holy day, shall be crowded 
with drunkards, or the sanctuary of God with humble worship- 
pers ; whether riot and profaneness shall fill our streets, and pov- 
erty our dwellings, and convicts our jails, and violence our land ; 
or whether industry, and temperance, and righteousness, shall be 
the stability of our times ; whether mild laws shall receive the 
cheerful submission of free men, or the iron rod of a tyrant com- 
pel the trembling homage of slaves. Be not deceived. The 
rocks and hills of New England will remain till the last confla- 
gration. But let the Sabbath be profaned with impunity, the 
worship of God be abandoned, the government and religious 
instruction of children neglected, and the streams of intemper- 
ance be permitted to flow, and her glory will depart. The wall 
of fire will no longer surround her, and the munition of rocks 
will no longer be her defence. The hand that overturns our 
doors and temples, is the hand of Death unbarring the gate of 
pandemonium, and letting loose upon our land the crimes and 
miseries of hell. If the Most High should stand aloof and cast 
not a single ingredient into our cup of trembling, it would seem 
to be full of superlative woe. But He will not stand aloof. As 
we shall have begun an open controversy with Him, he will 
contend openly with us. And, never, since the earth stood, has 
it been so fearful a thing for nations to fall into the hands of the 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 59 

living God. The day of vengeance is at hand ; the day of judg- 
ment has come ; the great earthquake which sinks Babylon is 
■baking the nations, and the waves of the mighty commotions 
are dashing upon every shore. Is this, then, a time to remove 
the foundations, when the earth itself is shaken? Is this a time 
to forfeit the protection of God, when the hearts of men are 
tailing them tor fear, and for looking after those things which 
are to come upon the earth ? Is this a time to run upon His 
neck and the thick bosses of His buckler, when the nations are 
drinking blood, and fainting, and passing away in His wrath ? Is 
this the time to throw away the shield of faith, when His arrows 
are drunk with the blood of the slain ? — to cut from the anchor 
of hope, when the clouds are collecting, and the sea and the 
waves are roaring, and thunders are uttering their voices, and 
lightnings blazing in the heavens, and the great hail is falling 
from heaven upon men, and every mountain, sea, and island is 
fleeing in dismay from the face of an incensed God ! 

L. Beecker. 



XLIV. 

ON THE IRISH DISTURBANCE BILL. 

j" DO not rise to fawn or cringe to this House ; I do not 
-^ rise to supplicate you to be merciful towards the nation to 
which I belong, — toward a nation which, though subject to 
England, is yet distinct from it. It is a distinct nation ; it has 
been treated as such by this country, as may be proved by his- 
tory, and by seven hundred years of tyranny. I call upon this 
House, as you value the liberty of England, not to allow this 
nefarious bill to pass. In it are involved the liberties of England, 
the liberty of the press, and of every other institution dear to 
Englishmen. Against the bill I protest, in the name of the Irish 
people, and in the face of Heaven. I treat with scom the puny 
and pitiful assertions, that grievances are not to be complained 
of, — that our redress is not to be agitated ; for, in such cases, 
remonstrances cannot be too strong, agitation cannot be too vio- 
lent, to show to the world with what injustice our fair claims are 
met, and under what tyranny the people suffer. 

The clause which does away with trial by jury, — what, in the 

♦ 



60 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

name of Heaven is it, if it is not the establishment of a revolu- 
tionary tribunal ? It drives the judge from his bench ; it does 
away with that which is more sacred than the throne itself, — 
that for which your king reigns, your lords deliberate, your com- 
mons assemble. If ever I doubted before of the success of our 
agitation for repeal, this bill, — this infamous bill, — the way in 
which it has been received by the House ; the manner in which 
its opponents have been treated ; the personalities to which they 
have been subjected ; the yells with which one of them has this 
night been greeted, — all these things dissipate my doubts, and 
tell me of its complete and early triumph. Do you think those 
yells will be forgotten ? Do you suppose their echo will not 
reach the plains of my injured and insulted country ; that they 
will not be whispered in her green valleys, and heard from her 
lofty hills ? O, they will be heard there ! — yes ; and they will 
not be forgotten. The youth of Ireland will bound with indig- 
tion, — they will say, " We are eight millions ; and you treat us 
thus, as though we were no more to your country than the isle 
of Guernsey or of Jersey ! " 

I have done my duty. I stand acquitted to my conscience 
and my country. I have opposed this measure throughout ; and 
I now protest against it as harsh, oppressive, uncalled for, un- 
just ; — as establishing an infamous precedent, by retaliating 
crime against crime ; — as tyrannous, — cruelly and vindictively 
tyrannous! d. O'Connell. 



XLV. 
CESAR'S PAUSE UPON THE RUBICON. 

\ N advocate of Caesar's character, speaking of his benevolent 
■^-*- disposition, and of the reluctance with which he entered 
into the civil war, observes, " How long did he pause upon the 
brink of the Rubicon ! " How came he to the brink of that 
river ? How dared he cross it ? Shall private men respect the 
boundaries of private property, and shall a man pay no respect 
to the boundaries of his country's rights ? How dared he cross 
that river ? — Oh ! but he paused upon the brink ! He should 
have perished on the brink, ere he had crossed it ! Why did he 
pause ? Why does a man's heart palpitate when he is on the 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 6* 

point of committing an unlawful deed? Why does the very 
murderer, — his victim Bleeping before him, and his glaring eye 
taking measure of the blow, — strike wide of the mortal part? 
— Because of conscience ! 'T was that made Caesar pause upon 
the brink of the Rubicon. Compassion ! — What compassion ? 
The compassion of an assassin, that feels a momentary shudder 
as his weapon begins to cut ! 

Caesar paused upon the brink of the Rubicon! — What was 
the Rubicon ? — The boundary of Caesar's province. From what 
did it separate his province ? From his country. Was that 
country a desert ? No : it was cultivated and fertile ; rich and 
populous ! Its sons were men of genius, spirit, and generosity ! 
Its daughters were lovely, susceptible, and chaste ! Friendship 
was its inhabitant ! — Love was its inhabitant ! — Domestic affec- 
tion was its inhabitant ! — Liberty was its inhabitant ! — All 
bounded by the stream of the Rubicon ! What was Caesar, that 
stood upon the brink of that stream ? — A traitor, bringing war 
and pestilence into the heart of that country ! No wonder that 
he paused ! No wonder if, in his imagination, wrought upon by 
his conscience, he had beheld blood instead of water ; and heard 
groans instead of murmurs. No wonder if some Gorgon horror 
had turned him into stone upon the spot. — But, no ! — he cried, 
" The die is cast ! " He plunged ! — he crossed ! — and Rome 
was free no more. J. S. Knowles. 



xlvi. ' 

GUSTAVUS VASA TO TIIE DALECARLIANS. 

Q WEDES ! countrymen ! behold at last, after a thousand dan- 
^ gers past, your chief, Gustavus, here ! Long have I sighed 
'mid foreign lands ; long have I roamed in foreign lands ; at 
length, 'mid Swedish hearts and hands, I grasp a Swedish spear ! 
Yet, looking forth, although I see none but the fearless and the 
free, sad thoughts the sight inspires ; for where, I think, on 
Swedish ground, save where these mountains frown around, can 
that best heritage be found — the freedom of our sires? Yes, 
Sweden pines beneath the yoke ; the galling chain our fathers 
broke is round our country now ! On perjured craft and ruthless 



62 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

guilt his power a tyrant Dane has built, and Sweden's crown, all 
blood-bespilt, rests on a foreign brow. 

On you your country turns her eyes — on you, on you, for aid 
relies, scions of noblest stem ! The foremost place in rolls of 
fame, by right your fearless fathers claim ; yours is the glory of 
their name, — 'tis yours to equal them. As rushing down, when 
winter reigns, resistless to the shaking plains, the torrent tears 
its way, and all that bars its onward course sweeps to the sea 
with headlong, force, — so swept your sires the Dane and Norse ; 
— can ye do less than they $ 

Rise ! reassert your ancient pride, and down the hills a living 
tide of fiery valor pour. Let but the storm of battle lower, 
back to his den the foe will cower ; — then, then shall Freedom's 
glorious hour strike for our land once more ! What ! silent — 
motionless, ye stand ? Gleams not an eye ? Moves not a hand ? 
Think ye to fly your fate ? Or till some better cause be given, 
wait ye ? — Then wait ! till, banished, driven, ye fear to meet 
the face of Heaven ; — till ye are slaughtered, wait. 

But no ! your kindling hearts gainsay the thought. Hark ! 
hear that bloodhound's bay ! Yon blazing village see ! Rise, 
countrymen ! Awake ! Defy the haughty Dane ! Your battle- 
cry be Freedom ! We will do or die ! On ! Death or victory ! 



XLvn. 

NOBILITY OF LABOR. 

T CALL upon those whom I address to stand up for the nobil- 
- 1 - ity of labor. It is Heaven's great ordinance for human 
improvement. Let not that great ordinance be broken down. 
What do I say ? It is broken down ; and it has been broken 
down for ages. Let it then be built up again ; here, if any- 
where, on these shores of a new world, of a new civilization. 
But how, I may be asked, is it broken down ? Do not men 
toil ? it may be said. They do indeed toil ; but they too gener- 
ally do it because they must. Many submit to it as in some sort 
a degrading necessity ; and they desire nothing so much on earth 
as escape from it. They fulfil the great law of labor in the let- 
ter, but break it in the spirit ; fulfil it with the muscle, but break 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 63 

it with the mind. To some fteld of labor, mental or manual, 
eviTv idler should fasten, as a chosen and coveted theatre of 

improvement Hut so he is not impelled to do, under the teach- 
ings of our imperfect civilization. On the contrary, he sits down, 
folds his hands, and blesses himself in his idleness. This way 
of thinking is the heritage of the absurd and unjust feudal sys- 
tem under which serfs labored, and gentlemen spent their lives 
in fighting and feasting. It is time that this opprobrium of toil 
were done away. Ashamed to toil, art thou ? Ashamed of thy 
dingy work-shop and dusty labor-field ; of thy hard hand scarred 
with service more honorable than that of war ; of thy soiled 
and weather-stained garments, on which mother Nature has 
embroidered, midst sun and rain, midst fire and steam, her own 
heraldic honors ? Ashamed of these tokens and titles, and en- 
vious of the flaunting robes of imbecile idleness and vanity ? It 
is treason to Nature ; it is impiety to Heaven ; it is breaking 
Heaven's great ordinance. Toil, I repeat — toil, either of the 
brain, of the heart, or of the hand, is the only true manhood, the 
only true nobility. 0. Dewey. 

» 

XLvni. 
SALATH1EL TO TITUS. 

CON of Vespasian, I am at this hour a poor man, as I may in 
*-* the next be an exile or a slave : I have ties to life as strong 
as ever were bound round the heart of man. I stand here a 
suppliant for the life of one whose loss would embitter mine ! 
Yet, not for wealth unlimited, for the safety of my family, for 
the life of the noble victim that is now standing at the place of 
torture, dare I abandon, dare I think the impious thought of 
abandoning the cause of the City of Holiness. 

Titus ! in the name of that Being, to whom the wisdom of 
the earth is folly, I adjure ^ou to beware. Jerusalem is sacred. 
Her crimes have often wrought her misery ; often has she been 
trampled by the armies of the stranger. But she is still the 
City of the Omnipotent ; and never was blow inflicted on her by 
man, that was not terribly repaid. 

The Assyrian came, the mightiest power of the world ; he 
plundered her temple, and led her people into captivity. How 



64 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

long was it before his empire was a dream, his dynasty extin- 
guished in blood, and an enemy on his throne ? The Persian 
came ; from her protector he turned into her oppressor ; and his 
empire was swept away like the dust of the desert ! The Syrian 
smote her ; the smiter died in agonies of remorse ; and where is 
his kingdom now ? The Egyptian smote her ; and who now sits 
on the throne of the Ptolemies ? 

Pompey came : the invincible, the conqueror of a thousand 
cities, the light of Rome ; the lord of Asia, riding on the very 
wings of victory. But he profaned her temple ; and from that 
hour he went down, — down, like a millstone plunged into the 
ocean ! Blind counsel, rash ambition, womanish fears were 
upon the great statesman and warrior of Rome. Where does 
he sleep ? What sands were colored with his blood ? The 
universal conqueror died a slave, by the hand of a slave ! Cras- 
sus came at the head of the legions ; he plundered the sacred 
vessels of the sanctuary. Vengeance followed him, and he was 
cursed by the curse of God. Where are the bones of the robber 
and his host ? Go, tear them from the jaws of the lion and the 
wolf of Parthia, — their fitting tomb ! 

You, too, son of Vespasian, may be commissioned for the 
punishment of a stiff-necked and rebellious people. You may 
scourge our naked vice by force of arms ; and then you may 
return to your own land exulting in the conquest of the fiercest 
enemy of Rome. But shall you escape the common fate of the 
instrument of evil? Shall you see a peaceful old age ? Shall a 
son of yours ever sit upon the throne ? Shall not rather some 
monster of your blood efface the memory of your virtues, and 
make Rome, in bitterness of soul, curse the Flavian name ? 

G. Croly. 



XLTX. 
AN APPEAL TO THE LOYALTY OF SOUTH CAROLINA. 

Tj^ELLOW-CITIZENS of my native State ! Let me not 
only admonish you as the first magistrate of our common 
country not to incur the penalty of its laws, but use the influence 
that a father would over his children whom he saw rushing to 
certain ruin. In that paternal language, with that paternal feel- 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 65 

ing, let me tell you, my countrymen, that you are deluded by 
men who arc either deceived themselves, or wish to deceive you. 
Contemplate the condition of that country of which you still 
form an important part ! Consider its government, uniting in 
one bond of common interest and general protection so many 
different States — giving to all their inhabitants the proud title 
of AMERICAN citizen — protecting their commerce — securing 
their literature and arts — facilitating their intercommunication 
— defending their frontiers — and making their name respected 
in the remotest parts of the earth ! Consider the extent of its 
territory, its increasing and happy population, its advance in arts 
which render life agreeable, and the sciences which elevate the 
mind ! See education spreading the lights of religion, morality, 
and general information into every cottage in this wide extent 
of our Territories and States ! Behold it as the asylum where 
the wretched and the oppressed find a refuge and support ! 
Look on this picture of happiness and honor, and say, " We, 
too, are citizens of America ! Carolina is one of these 
proud States ; her arms have defended, her best blood has 
cemented, this happy Union ! " And then add, if you can, with- 
out horror and remorse, " This happy Union we will dissolve — 
this picture of peace and prosperity we will deface — this free 
intercourse we will interrupt — these fertile fields we will deluge 
with blood — the protection of that glorious flag we renounce — 
the. very name of Americans we discard ! " And for what, mis- 
taken men ! for what do you throw away these inestimable 
blessings — for w r hat would you exchange your share in the- ad- 
vantages and honor of the Union ? For the dream of a separate 
independence — a dream interrupted by bloody conflicts with 
your neighbors, and a vile dependence on a foreign power. 

A. Jackson. 



THE # SAME CONCLUDED. 

rpil ERE is yet time to show, that the descendants of the 
X Pinckneys, the Sumters, the Rutledges, and of the thousand 
other names which adorn the pages of your Revolutionary history, 
will not abandon that Union to support which so many of them 
fought, and bled, and died. I adjure you, as you honor their mem- 
5 



66 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

ory, as you love the cause of freedom to which they dedicated 
their lives, as you prize the peace of your country, the lives of 
its best citizens, and your own fair fame, to retrace your steps. 
Snatch from the archives of your State the disorganizing edict 
of its convention, — bid its members to reassemble and promul- 
gate the decided expression of your will, to remain in the path 
which alone can conduct you to safety, prosperity, and honor ; — 
tell them that compared to disunion, all other evils are light, be- 
cause that brings with it an accumulation of all ; — declare that 
you will never take the field, unless the star-spangled banner of 
your country shall float over you ; that you will not be stigma- 
tized when dead, and dishonored and scorned while you live, as 
the authors of the first attack on the Constitution of your coun- 
try, — its destroyers you cannot be. 

Fellow-citizens, the momentous case is before you. On your 
undivided support of the Government depends the decision of the 
great question it involves : whether our sacred Union will be pre- 
served, and the blessings it secures to us as one people shall be 
perpetuated. No one can doubt that the unanimity with which 
that decision will be expressed, will be such as to inspire new 
confidence in republican institutions ; and that the prudence, the 
wisdom, and the courage, which it will bring to their defence, 
will transmit them unimpaired and invigorated to our children. 
May the Great Ruler of nations grant that the signal blessings 
with which He has favored ours, may not, by the madness . of 
party or personal ambition, be disregarded and lost ; and may His 
wise Providence bring those who have produced this crisis, to see 
their folly, before they feel the misery of civil strife ; and inspire 
a returning veneration for that Union, which, if we may dare to 
penetrate His designs, He has chosen as the only means of ob- 
taining the high destinies to which we may reasonably aspire. 

A. Jackson. 



LI. 

BURR AND BLENNERHASSETT. 

A PLAIN man, who knew nothing of the curious transmutation 
which the wit of man can work, would be very apt to won- 
der by what kind of legerdemain Aaron Burr had contrived to 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 67 

shuffle himself down to the bottom of the pack, as an accessory, 
and turn up poor IJlennerhnssrtt as principal, in this treason. 
Who, then, is Aaron Burr, and what the part which lie has 
borne in this transaction? lie is its author, its projector, its 
active executor. Bold, ardent, restless, and aspiring, his brain 
conceived it, his hand brought it into action. 

Who i.- Bleiraerhassett ? A native of Ireland, a man of let- 
ters, who tied from the storms of his own country, to find quiet 
in ours. On his arrival in America, he retired, even from the 
population of the Atlantic States, and sought quiet and solitude 
in the bosom of our western forests. But he brought with him 
taste, and science, and wealth ; and " lo, the desert smiled ! " 
essing himself of a beautiful island in the Ohio, he rears 
upon it a palace, and decorates it with every romantic embel- 
lishment of fancy. A shrubbery, that Shenstone might have 
envied, blooms around him. Music, that might have charmed 
Calypso and her nymphs is his. An extensive library spreads 
its treasures before him. A philosophical apparatus offers to 
him all the secrets and mysteries of Nature. Peace, tranquillity, 
and innocence, shed their mingled delights around him. And, 
to crown the enchantment of the scene, a wife, who is said to be 
lovely even beyond her sex, and graced with every accomplish- 
ment that can render it irresistible, had blessed him with her 
love, and made him the father of several children. The evi- 
dence would convince you, sir, that this is but a faint picture of 
the real life. In the midst of all this peace, this innocence, and 
this tranquillity, — this feast of the mind, this pure banquet of 
the heart, — the destroyer comes. He comes to turn this para- 
dise into a hell. Yet the flowers do not wither at his approach, 
and no monitory shuddering through the bosom of their unfortu- 
nate possessor warns him of the ruin that is coming upon him. 
A stranger presents himself. It is Aaron Burr. Introduced to 
their civilities by the high rank which he had lately held in his 
country, he soon finds his way to their hearts, by the dignity 
and elegance of his demeanor, the light and beauty of his con- 
versation, and the seductive and fascinating power of his address. 
The conquest was not difficult. Innocence is ever simple and 
credulous. Conscious of no designs itself, it suspects none in 
others. It wears no guards before its breast. Every door and 



68 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

portal and avenue of the heart is thrown open, and all who 
choose it enter. Such was the state of Eden, when the serpent 
entered its bowers ! 

The prisoner, in a irfore engaging form, winding himself into 
the open and unpractised heart of the unfortunate Blennerhas- 
sett, found but little difficulty in changing the native character 
of that heart, and the object of its affection. By degrees, he 
infuses into it the poison of his own ambition. He breathes into 
it the fire of his own courage ; a daring, desperate thirst for 
glory ; an ardor, panting for all the storm, and bustle, and hurri- 
cane of life. In a short time,. the whole man is changed, and 
every object of his former delight relinquished. No more he 
enjoys the tranquil scene ; it has become flat and insipid to his 
taste. His books are abandoned. His retort and crucible are 
thrown aside. His shrubbery blooms and breathes its fragrance 
upon the air in vain — he likes it not. His ear no longer drinks 
the rich melody of music ; it longs for the trumpet's clangor, and 
the cannon's roar. Even the prattle of his babes, once so sweet, 
no longer affects him ; and the angel smile of his wife, which 
hitherto touched his bosom with ecstasy so unspeakable, is now 
unfelt and unseen. Greater objects have taken possession of his 
soul. His imagination has been dazzled by visions of diadems, 
and stars, and garters, and titles of nobility. He has been 
taught to burn with restless emulation at the names of great 
heroes and conquerors, — of Cromwell, and Caesar, and Bona- 
parte. His enchanted island is destined soon to relapse into a 
wilderness ; and, in a few months, we find the tender and beau- 
tiful partner of his bosom, whom he lately " permitted not the 
winds " of summer "to visit too roughly," — we find her shiver- 
ing, at midnight, on the wintry banks of the Ohio, and mingling 
her tears with the torrents that froze as they fell. 

Yet this unfortunate man, thus deluded from his interest and 
his happiness,' — thus seduced from the paths of innocence and 
peace, — thus confounded in the toils which were deliberately 
spread for him, and overwhelmed by the mastering spirit and 
genius of another, — this man, thus ruined and undone, and 
made to play a subordinate part in this grand drama of guilt 
and treason, — this man is to be called the principal offender ; 
while he, by whom he was thus plunged in misery, is compara- 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 69 

tively innocent, a mere accessory ! Is this reason ? Is it law ? 
Is it humanity? Sir, neither the human heart nor the human 
understanding will hear a perversion so monstrous and absurd ; 
BO shocking to the soul ; so revolting to reason ! Wm. Wirt. 



LII. 
CAUSE FOR INDIAN RESENTMENT. 

"V T OU say you have bought the country. Bought it ? Yes ; 

-^ of whom ? Of the poor, trembling natives, who knew that 

refusal would be vain; and who strove to make a merit of 

sity, by seeming to yield with a grace what they knew 

they had not the power to retain. 

Alas, the poor Indians ! No wonder that they continue so 
implacably vindictive against the white people. No wonder that 
the rage of resentment is handed down from generation to gen- 
eration. No wonder that they refuse to associate and mix per- 
manently with their unjust and cruel invaders and extermina- 
tors. No wonder that, in the unabating spite and frenzy of con- 
scious impotence, they wage an eternal war, as well as they are 
able. ; that they triumph in the rare opportunity of revenge ; 
that they dance, sing, and rejoice, as the victim shrinks and 
faints amid the flames, when they imagine all the crimes of their 
oppressors collected on his head, and fancy the spirits of their 
injured forefathers hovering over the scene, smiling with fero- 
cious .delight at the grateful spectacle, and feasting on the 
precious odor as it arises from the burning blood of the white 
man. Yet the people here affect to wonder that the Indians are 
so very unsusceptible of civilization ; or, in other words, that 
they so obstinately refuse to adopt the manners of the white 
man. 

Go, Virginians, erase from the Indian nation the tradition 
of their wrongs. Make them forget, if you can, that once this 
charming country was theirs ; that over these fields and through 
these forests their beloved forefathers once, in careless gayety, 
pursued their sports and hunted their game ; that every return- 
ing day found them the sole, the peaceful, and happy proprie- 
tors of this extensive and beautiful domain. Go, administer the 



70 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

cup of oblivion to recollections like these, and then you will 
cease to complain that the Indian refuses to be civilized. 

But, until then, surely it is nothing wonderful that a nation, 
even yet bleeding afresh from the memory of ancient wrongs, 
perpetually agonized by new outrages, and goaded into despera- 
tion and madness at the prospect of the certain ruin which 
awaits their descendants, should hate the authors of their mis- 
eries, of their desolation, their destruction ; should hate their 
manners, hate their color, hate their language, hate their name, 
hate everything that belongs to them. No, never, until time 
shall wear out the history of their sorrows and their sufferings, 
will the Indian be brought to love the white man, and to imitate 
his manners. Wm. Wirt. 



im. 

SPEECH ON TEE BRITISH TREATY. 

r pHE refusal of the posts (inevitable if we reject the treaty) 
is a measure too decisive in its nature to be neutral in its 
consequences. If any should still maintain, that the peace with 
the Indians will be stable without the posts, to them I will urge 
another reply. I will appeal directly to the hearts of those who 
hear me, and ask whether conviction is not already planted there. 
I resort especially to the convictions of the "Western gentlemen, 
whether, supposing no posts and no treaty, the settlers will re- 
main in security ? Can they take it upon them to say, that an 
Indian peace, under these circumstances, will prove firm ? No, 
sir, it will not be peace, but a sword ; it will be no better than a 
lure to draw victims within reach of the tomahawk. 

On this theme my emotions are unutterable. If I could find 
words for them, if my powers bore any proportion to my 
zeal, I would swell my voice to such a note of remonstrance, it 
should reach every log house beyond the mountains. I would 
say to the inhabitants, Wake from your false security ! Your 
cruel dangers, your more cruel apprehensions, are soon to be re- 
newed. The wounds yet unhealed are to be torn open again. In 
the daytime, your path through the M T oods will be ambushed. 
The darkness of midnight will glitter with the blaze of your 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 71 

dwellings. You are a father — the blood of your sons shall fatten 
your corn-field. You are a mother, — the war-whoop shall wake 
the sleep of the cradle. 

On this subject you need not suspect any deception on your 
feelings. It is a spectacle of horror which cannot be over- 
drawn. If you have nature in your hearts, they will speak a 
language compared with which all I have said or can say will be 
poor and frigid. 

Who will accuse me of wandering out of the subject ? Who 
will say that I exaggerate the tendencies of our measures ? 
Will any one answer by a sneer, that all this is idle preaching ? 
Would any one deny that we are bound, and I would hope to 
good purpose, by the most solemn sanctions of duty for the vote 
we give ? Are despots alone to be reproached for unfeeling in- 
difference to the tears and blood of their subjects ? Are repub- 
licans irresponsible ? Have the principles on which you ground 
the reproach upon cabinets and kings no practical influence, no 
binding force ? Are they merely themes of idle declamation, 
introduced to decorate the morality of a newspaper essay, or to 
furnish pretty topics of harangue from the windows of that State 
House ? I trust it is neither too presumptuous nor too late to 
ask, Can you put the dearest interest of society at risk, with- 
out guilt and without remorse ? 

It is in vain to offer as an excuse, that public men are not to 
be reproached for the evils that may happen to ensue from their 
measures. This is very true where they are unforeseen or in- 
evitable. Those I have depicted are not unforeseen. They are 
so far from inevitable, we are going to bring them into being by 
our vote ; we choose the consequences, and become as justly 
answerable for them, as for the measure that we know will pro- 
duce them. 

By rejecting the posts, we light the savage fires, we bind the 
victims. This day we undertake to render account to the widows 
and orphans whom our decision will make, — to the. wretches that 
will be roasted at the stake, — to our country, — and I do not 
deem it too serious to say, to conscience and to God. We are 
answerable ; and if duty be anything more than a word of im- 
posture, if conscience be not a bugbear, we are preparing to make 
ourselves as wretched as our country. 



72 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

There is no mistake in this case ; there can be none. Expe- 
rience has already been the prophet of events, and the cries of 
our future victims has already reached us. The Western inhab- 
itants are not a silent and uncomplaining sacrifice. The voice 
of humanity issues from the shade of the wilderness. It ex- 
claims, that, while one hand is held up to reject this treaty, the 
other grasps the tomahawk. It summons our imagination to the 
scenes that will open. It is no great effort of the imagination 
to conceive that events so near are already begun. I can fancy 
that I listen to the yells of savage vengeance and the shrieks of 
torture! Already they seem to sigh in the .western wind! 
Already they mingle with every echo from the mountains ! 

F. Ames. 



LIV. 
SPEECH AGAINST A LIBELLER. 

f AM one of those who believe that the heart of the wilful 
and deliberate libeller is blacker than that of the highway 
robber, or of one who commits the crime of midnight arson. 
The man who plunders on the highway may have the sem- 
blance of an apology for what he does. An affectionate Avife 
may demand subsistence ; a circle of helpless children raise to 
him the supplicating hand for food. He may be driven to the 
desperate act by the high mandate of imperative necessity. 
The mild features of the husband and father may intermingle 
with those of the robber and soften the roughness of the shade. 
But the robber of character plunders that which "not enrich- 
eth him," though it makes his neighbor " poor indeed." The 
man who at the midnight hour consumes his neighbor's dwelling, 
does him an injury w T hich perhaps is not irreparable. Industry 
may rear another habitation. The storm may indeed descend 
upon him until charity opens a neighboring door ; the rude 
winds of heaven may whistle around his uncovered family. But 
/ he looks forward to better days ; he has yet a hook left to hang 

a hope on. No such consolation cheers the heart of him whose 
character has been torn from him. If innocent he may look, 
like Anaxagoras, to the heavens ; but he must be constrained 
to feel this world is to him a wilderness. For whither, shall he 
•go? Shall he dedicate himself to the service of his country? 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 73 

But will his country receive him ? Will she employ in her 
councils, or in her armies, the man at whom the " slow unmov- 
ing finger of scorn " is pointed ? Shall he betake himself to the 
fireside ? The story of his disgrace will enter his own doors 
before him. And can he bear, think you, can he bear the 
sympathizing agonies of a distressed wife ? Can he endure the 
formidable presence of scrutinizing, sneering domestics ? Will 
his children receive instructions from the lips of a disgraced 
father ? 

Gentlemen, I am not ranging on fairy ground. I am tell- 
ing the plain story of my client's wrongs. By the ruthless 
hand of malice his character has been wantonly massacred, — 
and he now appears before a jury of his country for redress. 
Will you deny him this redress ? Is character valuable ? On 
this point I will not insult you with argument. There are cer- 
tain things to argue which is treason against nature. The 
Author of our being did not intend to leave this point afloat at 
the mercy of opinion, but with His own hand has He kindly 
planted in the soul of man an instinctive love of character. This 
high sentiment has no affinity to pride. It is the ennobling 
quality of the soul ; and if we have hitherto been elevated above 
the ranks of surrounding creation, human nature owes its eleva- 
tion to the love of character. It is the love of character for 
which the poet has sung, the philosopher toiled, the hero bled. 
It is the love of character which wrought miracles at ancient 
Greece ; the love of character is the eagle on which Rome rose 
to empire. And it is the love of character, animating the bosoms 
of her sons, on which America must depend in those approach- 
ing crises that may " try men's souls." Will a jury weaken tfeis 
our nation's hope ? Will they by their verdict pronounce to the 
youth of our country, that character is scarce worth possessing ? 

We read of that philosophy which can smile at the destruc- 
tion of property — of thatreligion which enables its possessor to 
extend the benign look of forgiveness and complacency to his 
murderers. But it is not in the soul of man to bear the lacera- 
tion of slander. The philosophy which could bear it we should 
despise. The religion which could bear it we should not- de- 
spise, — but we should be constrained to say, that its kingdom 
was not of this world. Griffin. 



74 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

LV. 

NEW ENGLAND AND THE UNION. 

f^i LORIOUS New England ! thou art still true to thy an- 
^- > ^ cient fame, and worthy of thy ancestral honors. We, thy 
children, have assembled in this far-distant land to celebrate 
thy birthday. A thousand fond associations throng upon ' us, 
roused by the spirit of the hour. On thy pleasant valleys rest, 
like sweet clews of morning, the gentle recollections of our early 
life ; around thy hills and mountains cling, like gathering mists, 
the mighty memories of the Revolution ; and, far away in the 
horizon of thy past, gleam, like thy own bright northern lights, 
the awful virtues of our Pilgrim Sires ! 

But while we devote this day to the remembrance of our 
native land, we forget not that in which our happy lot is cast. 
We exult in the reflection, that though we count by thousands 
the miles which separate us from our birthplace, still our coun- 
try is the same. We are no exiles, meeting upon the banks of a 
foreign river to swell its waters with our homesick tears. Here 
floats the same banner which rustled above our boyish heads, 
except that its mighty folds are wider, and its glittering stars 
increased in number. 

The sons of New England are found in every State of the 
broad Republic. In the East, the South, and the unbounded 
West, their blood mingles freely with every kindred current. 
We have but changed our chamber in the paternal mansion ; 
in all its rooms we are at home, and all who inhabit it are 
our brothers. To us the Union has but one domestic hearth ; 
itsb household gods are all the same. Upon us then peculiarly 
devolves the duty of feeding the fires upon that kindly hearth, 
of guarding with pious care those sacred household gods. 

We cannot do with less than the whole Union ; to us it admits 
of no division. In the veins of our children flows Northern and 
Southern blood. How shall it be separated? Who shall put 
asunder the best affections of the heart, the noblest instincts of 
our nature ? We love the land of our adoption ; so do we that 
of our birth. Let us ever be true to both, and always exert 
ourselves in maintaining the unity of our country, the integrity 
of the Republic. 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 75 

Accursed, then, be the hand put forth to loosen the golden cord 
of the Union ! — thrice accursed the traitorous lips which shall 
propose its severance ! But no ; the Union cannot be dissolved. 
Its fortunes are too brilliant to be marred ; its destinies too 
powerful to be resisted. Here will be their greatest triumph, 
their most mighty development. And when, a century hence, this 
Crescent City shall have filled her golden horns, — when within 
her broad-armed port shall be gathered the products of the in- 
dustry of a hundred millions of freemen, — when galleries of 
art and halls of learning shall have made classic this mart of 
trade, — then may the sons of the Pilgrims, still wandering from 
the bleak hills of the North, stand upon the banks of the great 
river and exclaim with mingled pride and wonder, — " Lo, this 
is our country : when did the world ever behold so rich and 
magnificent a city, — so great and glorious a Republic ! " 

S. S. Prentiss. 



LVI. 

ON SENDING RELIEF TO IRELAND. 

\TTE have assembled, not to respond to shouts of triumph 
from the West, but to answer to the cry of want and suf- 
fering which comes from the East. The Old World stretches 
out her arms to the New. The starving parent supplicates the 
young and vigorous child for bread. There lies, upon the other 
side of the wide Atlantic, a beautiful island famous in history 
and in song. Its area is not so great as that of the State of 
Louisiana, while its population is almost half that of the Union. 
It has given to the world more than its share of genius and of 
greatness. It has been prolific in statesmen, warriors, and poets. 
Its brave and generous sons have fought successfully all battles 
but their own. In wit and humor it has no equal, while its harp, 
like its history, moves to tears, by its sweet but melancholy 
pathos. Into this fair region God has seen fit to send the most 
terrible of all those fearful ministers who fulfil his inscrutable 
decrees. The earth has failed to give her increase ; the common 
mother has forgotten her offspring, and her breast no longer 
affords them their accustomed nourishment. Famine, gaunt and 
ghastly famine, has seized a nation in its strangling grasp ; and 



76 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

unhappy Ireland, in the sad woes of the present, forgets, for a 
moment, the gloomy history of the past. 

Oh, it is terrible, in this beautiful world, which the good God 
has given us, and in which there is plenty for us all, that men 
should die of starvation ! You, who see, each day, poured into 
the lap of your city, food sufficient to assuage the hunger of a 
nation, can form but an imperfect idea of the horrors of famine. 
In battle, in the fulness of his pride and strength, little recks the 
soldier whether the hissing bullet sings his sudden requiem, or 
the cords of life are severed by the sharp steel. But he who 
dies of hunger, wrestles alone, day after day, with his grim and 
unrelenting enemy. The blood recedes, the flesh deserts, the 
muscles relax, and the sinews grow powerless. At last, the 
mind, which, at first, had bravely nerved itself for the contest, 
gives way, under the mysterious influences which govern its 
union with the body. Then he begins to doubt the existence of 
an overruling Providence ; he hates his fellow-men, and glares 
upon them w T ith the longings of a cannibal, and it may be, dies 
blaspheming! . 

Who will hesitate to give his mite to avert such awful results ? 
Surely not the citizens of New Orleans, ever famed for deeds of 
charity and benevolence. Freely have your hearts and purses 
opened, heretofore, to the call of suffering humanity. Nobly did 
you respond to oppressed Greece and to struggling Poland. 
Within Erin's borders is an enemy more cruel than the Turk, 
more tyrannical than* the Russian. Bread is the only -weapon 
that can conquer him. Let us, then, load ships with this glori- 
ous munition, and, in the name of our common humanity, wage 
war against this despot Famine. Let us, in God's name, " cast 
our bread upon the waters," and if we are selfish enough to de- 
sire it back again, we may recollect the promise, that it shall 
return to us after many days. S. S. Prentiss. 



B 



LVII. 
THE NEW ENGLAND COMMON SCHOOL. 

EHOLD yon simple building near the crossing of the vil- 
lage road! It is small, and of rude construction, but 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 77 

stands in a pleasant and quiet spot. A magnificent old elm 
spreads its broad arms above, and seems to lean towards it, as a 
strong man bends to shelter and protect a child. A brook runs 
through the meadow near, and hard by there is an orchard ; but 
the trees have suffered much, and bear no fruit, except upon the 
most remote and inaccessible branches. From within its walls 
comes a busy hum, such as you may hear in a disturbed bee- 
hive. Now peep through yonder window, and you will see a 
hundred children, with rosy cheeks, mischievous eyes, and de- 
mure faces, all engaged, or pretending to be so, in their little 
lessons. It is the public school, — the free, the common school, 
— provided by law ; open to all ; claimed from the community 
as a right, not accepted as a bounty. 

Here the children of the rich and poor, high and low, meet 
upon perfect equality, and commence, under the same auspices, 
the race of life. Here the sustenance of the mind is served up 
to all alike," as the Spartans served their food upon the public 
table. Here, young Ambition climbs his little ladder, and boy- 
ish Genius plumes his half-fledged wing. From among these 
laughing children will go forth the men who are to control the 
destinies of their age and country ; the^statesman, whose wisdom 
is to guide the Senate ; the poet, who will take captive the hearts 
of the people, and bind them together with immortal song ; the 
philosopher, who, boldly seizing upon the elements themselves, 
will compel them to his washes, and, through new combinations 
of their primal laws, by some great discovery, revolutionize both 
art and science. 

The common village-school is New England's fairest boast, — 
the brightest jewel that adorns her brow. The principle that 
society is bound to provide for its members' education as well as 
protection, so that none need be ignorant except from choice, is 
the %nost important that belongs to modern philosophy. It is 
essential to a republican government. Universal education is 
not only the best and surest, hut the only sure, foundation for 
free institutions. True liberty is the child of knowledge ; she 
pines away and dies in the arms of ignorance. Honor, then, to 
the early fathers of New England, from whom came the spirit 
which has built a school-house by every sparkling fountain, and 
bids all come as freely to the one as to the other, s. S. Prentiss. 



78 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

LVIII. 
CnRISTTANITY TIIE SOURCE OF REFORM. ' 

npiIE great element of reform is not born of human wisdom : 
it does not draw its life from human organizations. I find 
it only in Christianity. " Thy kingdom come ! " There is a 
sublime and pregnant burden in this prayer. It is the aspiration 
of every soul that goes forth in the spirit of Reform. For what 
is the significance of this prayer ? It is a petition that all holy 
influences would penetrate, and subdue, and dwell in the heart 
of man, until he shall think, and speak, and do good, from the 
very necessity of his being. So would the institutions of error 
and wrong crumble and pass away. So would sin die out from 
the earth ; and the human soul living in harmony with the 
Divine Will, this earth would become like Heaven. It is too 
late for the reformers to sneer at Christianity, — it is foolishness 
for them to reject it. In it are enshrined our faitli in human 
progress, — our confidence in reform. It is indissolubly con- 
nected with all that is hopeful, spiritual, capable in man. That 
men have misunderstood it, and perverted it, is true. But it is 
also true, that the noblest efforts for human melioration have 
come out of it, — have been based upon it. Is it not so ? Come, 
ye remembered ones, who sleep the sleep of the just, — who 
took your conduct from the line of Christian philosophy, — come 
from your tombs, and answer ! 

Come, Howard, from the gloom of the prison and the taint of 
the lazar-house, and show us what philanthropy can do when 
imbued with the spirit of Jesus. Come, Eliot, from the thick 
forest where the red man listens to the Word of Life ; — come, 
Penn, from thy sweet counsel and weaponless victory, — and 
show us what Christian zeal and Christian love can accomplish 
with the rudest barbarians or the fiercest hearts. Come, Rafikes, 
from thy labors with the ignorant and the poor, and show us 
with what an eye this Faith regards the lowest and the least of 
our race ; and how diligently it labors, not for the body, not for 
the rank, but for the plastic soul that is to course the ages of 
immortality. And ye, who are a great number, — ye nameless 
ones, — who have done good in your narrow spheres, content to 
forego renown on earth, and seeking your reward in the Record 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 79 

on High, — come and tell us how kindly a spirit, how lofty a 
purpose, or how strong a courage, the Religion ye professed can 
breathe into the poor, the humble, and the weak. Go forth, then, 
Spirit of Christianity, to thy great work of Reform ! The Past 
bears witness to thee in the blood of thy martyrs, and the ashes 
of thy saints and heroes : the Present is hopeful because of thee ; 
the Future shall acknowledge thy omnipotence. E. H. Chopin. 



LIX. 

NORTHERN LABORERS. 

r |^HE gentleman, sir, has misconceived the spirit and ten- 
dency of Northern institutions. He is ignorant of Northern 
character, He has forgotten the history of his country. Preach 
insurrection to the Northern laborers ! Who are the Northern 
laborers ? The history of your country is their history. The 
renown of your country is their renown. The brightness of 
their doings is emblazoned on its every page. Blot from your 
annals the words and the doings of Northern laborers, and the 
history of your country presents but a universal blank. 

Sir, who was he that; disarmed the Thunderer ; wrested from 
his grasp the bolts of Jove ; calmed the troubled ocean ; became 
the central sun of the philosophical system of his age, shedding 
his brightness and effulgence on the whole civilized world ; 
whom the great and mighty of the earth delighted to honor ; 
who participated in the achievement of your Independence, 
prominently assisted in moulding your free institutions, and the 
beneficial effects of whose wisdom will be felt to the last mo- 
ment of " recorded time ? " Who, sir, I ask, was he ? A North- 
ern laborer, — a Yankee tallow-chandler's son, — a printer's 
runaway boy ! 

And who, let me ask the honorable gentleman, who was he 
that, in the days of our Revolution, led forth a Northern army, 
— yes, an army of Northern laborers, — and aided the chivalry 
of South Carolina in their defence against British aggression, 
drove the spoilers from their firesides, and redeemed her fair 
fields from foreign invaders ? Who was he ? A Northern la- 
borer, a Rhode Island blacksmith, — the gallant General Greene, 
who left his hammer and his forge, and went forth conquering 



80 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

and to conquer in the battle for our Independence ! And will 
yon preach insurrection to men like these ? 

Sir, onr country is full of the achievements of Northern laborers. 
Where is Concord, and Lexington, and Princeton, and Trenton, 
and Saratoga, and Bunker Hill, but in the North ? And what, sir, 
has shed an imperishable renown on the never-dying names of 
those hallowed spots, but the blood and the struggles, the high 
daring, and patriotism, and sublime courage of Northern laborers ? 
The whole North is an everlasting monument of the freedom, 
virtue, intelligence, and indomitable independence of Northern 
laborers ! Go, sir, go preach insurrection to men like these ! 

The fortitude of the men of the North, under intense suffering 
for liberty's sake, has been almost godlike ! History has so 
recorded it. Who comprised that gallant army, without food, 
without pay, shelterless, shoeless, penniless, and almost naked} in 
that dreadful winter, — the midnight of our Revolution, — whose 
wanderings could be traced by their blood-tracks in the snow ; 
whom no arts could seduce, no appeal lead astray, no sufferings 
disaffect ; but who, true to their country and its holy cause, 
continued to fight the good fight of liberty until it finally tri- 
umphed ? Who, sir, were these men ? , Why, Northern labor- 
ers ! Yes, sir, Northern laborers ! Who, sir, were Roger Sher- 
man, and — but it is idle to enumerate. To name the Northern 
laborers who have distinguished themselves, and illustrated the 
history of their country, would require days of the time of this 
House ; nor is it necessary. Posterity w T ill do them justice. 

Their deeds have been recorded in characters of fire ! 

C. Naylor. 

. ♦ 

LX. 

BROUGHAM'S ATTACK ON CANNING DESCRIBED. 

TPON that occasion, the oration of Brougham was, at the 
outset, disjointed and ragged, and apparently without aim 
or application. He careered over the whole annals of the world, 
and collected every instance in which genius had degraded itself 
at the footstool of power, or principle had been sacrificed for the 
vanity or the lucre of place ; but still there was no allusion to 
Canning, and no connection that ordinary men could discover 
with the business before the House. 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 81 

collected every material which suited his purpose, — when the 
mass had become big and black, he bound it about and about 
with the cords of illustration and of argument ; when its union 
was secure, he swung it round and round with the strength of 
a giant and the rapidity of a whirlwind, in order that its impetus 
and effect might be more tremendous ; and, while doing this, he 
ever and anon glared his eye, and pointed his finger to make the 
aim and direction sure. 

Canning was the first who seemed to be aware where and 
how terrible was to be the collision ; and he kept writhing his 
body in agony, and rolling his eyes in fear, as if anxious to find 
some shelter from the impending bolt. The House soon caught 
the impression, and every man in it was glancing his eye fear- 
fully, first towards the orator, and then towards the Secretary. 
There w r as, save the voice of Brougham, which growled in that 
undertone of muttered thunder, which is so fearfully audible, and 
of which no speaker of the day was fully master but himself, 
a silence as if the angel of retribution had been flaring in the 
face of all parties the scroll of their personal and political sins. 
A pen, which one of the Secretaries dropped upon the matting, 
was heard in the remotest part of the house; and the voting 
members, who often slept in the side-galleries during the debate, 
started up as though the final trump had been sounding them to 
give an account of their deeds. 

The stiffness of Brougham's figure had vanished ; his features 
seemed concentrated almost to a point ; he glanced toward every 
part of the House in succession ; and, sounding the death-knell of 
the Secretary's forbearance and prudence, with both his clinched 
hands upon the table, he hurled at him an accusation more 
dreadful in its gall, and more torturing in its effects than ever 
had been hurled at mortal man within the same walls. The 
result was instantaneous — was electric; it was as when the 
thunder-cloud descends upon some giant peak — one flash, one 
peal — the sublimity vanished, and all that remained was the 
small and cold pattering of rain. Canning started to his feet, 
and was able only to utter the unguarded words, " It is false ! " 
to which followed a dull chapter of apologies. From that mo- 
ment, the House became more a scene of real business than of 
airy display and angry vituperation. 



82 THE UNION SPEAKER 



LXI. 
SOUTH CAROLINA DURING THE REVOLUTION. 

TT is with unfeigned reluctance, Mr. President, that I enter 
upon the performance of this part of my duty. I shrink 
almost instinctively from a course, however necessary, which 
may have a tendency to excite sectional feelings and sectional 
jealousies. But, sir, the task has been forced upon me, and I 
proceed right onward to the performance of my duty. Be the 
consequences what they may, the responsibility is with those who 
have imposed upon me this necessity. The Senator from Massa- 
chusetts has thought proper to cast the first stone, and if he shall 
find, according to the homely adage, that " he lives in a glass 
house," — on his head be the consequences. The gentleman has 
made a great flourish about his fidelity to Massachusetts. I 
shall make no professions of zeal for the interests and honor of 
South Carolina — of that my constituents shall judge. 

If there be one State in the Union, Mr. President, (and I say 
it not in a boastful spirit,) that may challenge comparison with 
any other for a uniform, zealous, ardent, and uncalculating devo- 
tion to the Union, that State is South Carolina. Sir, from the 
very commencement of the Revolution up to this hour, there is 
no sacrifice, however great, she has not cheerfully made ; no ser- 
vice she has hesitated to perform. She has adhered to you in 
your prosperity, but in your adversity she has clung to you with 
more than filial affection. No matter what was the condition of 
her domestic affairs, — though deprived of her resources, divided 
by parties, or surrounded by difficulties, — the call of the country 
has been to her as the voice of God. Domestic discord ceased at 
the sound — every man became at once reconciled to his brethren, 
and the sons of Carolina were all seen crowding together to the 
temple, bringing their gifts to the altar of their common country. 

What, sir, was the conduct of the South during the Revolu- 
tion ? Sir, I honor New England for her conduct in that glo- 
rious struggle ; but great as is the praise which belongs to her, 
I think at least equal honor is due to the South. They espoused 
the cause of their brethren with generous zeal which did not 
suffer them to stop to calculate their interest in the dispute. 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 83 

Favorites of the mother country, possessed of neither ships nor 
seamen to create commercial rivalship, they might have found in 
their situation a guaranty that their trade would be forever fos- 
tered and protected by Great Britain. But trampling on all 
considerations, either of interest or of safety, they rushed into 
the conflict, and fighting for principle, perilled all in the sacred 
cause for freedom. Never was there exhibited in the history of 
the world, higher examples of noble daring, dreadful suffering, 
mid heroic endurance, than by the Whigs of Carolina during 
that Revolution. The whole State, from the mountain to the 
sea, was overrun by an overwhelming force of the enemy. The 
fruits of industry perished on the spot where they were pro- 
duced, or were consumed by the foe. The " plains of Carolina " 
drank up the most precious blood of her citizens, — black and 
smoking ruins marked the places which had been the habita- 
tions of her children ! Driven from their homes into the gloomy 
and almost impenetrable swamps, even there the spirit of liberty 
survived, and South Carolina, sustained by the example of her 
Sumters and her Marions, proved by her conduct, that though 
her soil might be overrun, the spirit of her people was invin- 
cible. E. Y. Hayne. 
♦ 

Lxn. 
INCOMPETENCY OF PARLIAMENT TO PASS THE UNION BILL. 

QIR, — I, in the most express terms, deny the competency of 
^ Parliament to abolish the Legislature of Ireland. I warn 
you, do not dare to lay your hand on the Constitution, — I tell 
you that if, circumstanced as you are, you pass an act which sur- 
renders the government of Ireland to the English Parliament, it 
will be a nullity, and that no man in Ireland will be bound to 
obey it. I make the assertion deliberately, — I repeat it, and I 
call on any man who hears me, to take down my words ; — you 
have not been elected for this purpose, — you are appointed to 
act under the Constitution, not to alter it, — you are appointed 
to exercise the functions of legislators, and not to transfer them, 

— and if you do so, your act is a dissolution of the government, 

— you resolve society into its original elements, and no man in 
the land is bound to obey you. 



84 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

Yourselves you may extinguish, but Parliament you cannot 
extinguish, — it is enthroned in the hearts of the people, — it is 
enshrined in the sanctuary of the Constitution, — it is immortal 
as the island which it protects. As well might the frantic sui- 
cide hope that the act which destroys his miserable body should 
extinguish his eternal soul. Again I therefore warn you, do not 
dare to lay your hands on the Constitution ; it is above your 
power. Sir, I do not say that the Parliament and the people, by 
mutual consent and cooperation, may not change the form of the 
Constitution. 

But, thank God, the people have manifested no such wish, — 
so far as they have spoken, their voice is decidedly against this 
daring innovation. You know that no voice has been uttered in 
its favor, and you cannot be infatuated enough to take confidence 
from the silence which prevails in some parts of the kingdom ; if 
you know how to appreciate that silence, it is more formidable 
than the most clamorous opposition, — you may be rived and 
shivered by the lightning before you hear the peal of the thun- 
der ! But, sir, we are told we should discuss this question with 
calmness and composure. I am called on to surrender my birth- 
right and my honor, and I am told I should be calm and com- 
posed. 

National pride ! Independence of our country ! These, we 
are told by the Minister, are only vulgar topics fitted for the 
meridian of the mob, but unworthy to be mentioned in such an 
enlightened assembly as this ; they are trinkets and gew-gaws 
fit to catch the fancy of childish and unthinking people like you, 
sir, or like your predecessor in that chair, but utterly unworthy 
of the consideration of this House, or of the matured understand- 
ing of the noble lord who condescends to instruct it ! Gracious 
God ! We see a Perry re-ascending from the tomb and raising 
his awful voice to warn us against the surrender of our freedom, 
and we see that the proud and virtuous feelings which warmed 
the breast of that aged and venerable man, are only calculated 
to excite the contempt of this young philosopher, who has been 
transplanted from the nursery to the cabinet, to outrage the feel- 
ings and understanding of the country. W. C. Plunkett. 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 85 



Lxin. 

WASHINGTON. 

O IR, it matters very little, what immediate spot may have 
^^ been the birthplace of such a man as Washington. No 
people can claim, no country appropriate him. The boon of 
Providence to the human race, — his fame is eternity, and his 
residence, creation. Though it was the defeat of our arms, and 
the disgrace of our policy, I almost bless the convulsion in 
which he had his origin. If the heavens thundered, and the 
earth rocked, yet, when the storm had passed, how pure was % the 
climate that it cleared ! How bright in the brow of the firma- 
ment was the planet which it revealed to us ! In the produc- 
tion of Washington, it does really appear as if Nature was en- 
deavoring to improve upon herself, and that all the virtues of 
the ancient world were but so many studies preparatory to the 
patriot of the new. 

Individual instances, no doubt there were, — splendid exem- 
plifications of some single qualification. Caesar was merciful, 
Scipio was continent, Hannibal was patient ; but it was reserved 
for Washington to blend them all in one, and, like the lovely 
masterpiece of the Grecian artist, to exhibit, in one glow of asso- 
ciated beauty, the pride of every model and the perfection of 
every master. 

As a general, he marshalled the peasant into a veteran, and 
supplied by discipline the absence of experience ; as a statesman, 
he enlarged the policy of the cabinet into the most comprehen- 
sive system of general advantage ; and such was the wisdom of 
his views, and the philosophy of his counsels, that, to the soldier 
and the statesman, he almost added the character of the sage ! 
A conqueror, he was untainted with the crime of blood ; a revo- 
lutionist, he was free from any stain of treason ; for aggression 
commenced the contest, and his country called him to the com- 
mand. Liberty unsheathed his sword, necessity stained, victory 
returned it. 

If he had paused here, history might have doubted what sta- 
tion to assign him ; whether at the head of her citizens or her 
soldiers, her heroes or her patriots. But the last glorious act 



86 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

crowns his career, and banishes all hesitation. Who like Wash- 
ington, after having emancipated a hemisphere, resigned its 
crown, and preferred the retirement of domestic life to the ado- 
ration of a land he might be almost said to have created ! 
Happy, proud America ! The lightnings of heaven yielded to 
your philosophy ! The temptations of earth could not seduce 
your patriotism. C. Phillips. 



LXIV. 

EDUCATION. 



/^|F all the blessings which it has pleased Providence to allow 
^^^ us to cultivate, there is not one which breathes a purer 
fragrance, or bears a heavenlier aspect than education. It is a 
companion which no misfortune can depress, no clime destroy, 
no enemy alienate, no despotism enslave ; at home a friend, 
abroad an introduction, in solitude a solace, in society an or- 
nament ; it chastens vice, it guides virtue, it gives at once a 
grace and government to genius. Without it, what is man ? A 
splendid slave ! A reasoning savage, vascillating between the 
dignity of an intelligence derived from God, and the degradation 
of passions participated with brutes ; and in the accident of their 
alternate ascendency, shuddering at the terrors of a hereafter, or- 
embracing the horrid hope of annihilation. 

What is this wondrous world of his residence ? 

" A mighty maze, and all without a plan : " 

a dark, and desolate, and dreary cavern, without wealth, or 
ornament, or order. But light up within it the torch of knowl- 
edge, and how wondrous the transition ! The seasons change, 
the atmosphere breathes, the landscape lives, earth unfolds its 
fruits, ocean rolls in its magnificence, the heavens display their 
constellated canopy, and the grand animated spectacle of nature 
rises revealed before him, its varieties regulated, and its myste- 
ries resolved ! The phenomena which bewilder, the prejudices 
which debase, the superstitions which enslave, vanish before 
education. 

Like the holy symbol which blazed upon the cloud before the 
hesitating Constantine, if man follow but its precepts, purely, it 






STANDARD SELECTIONS. 87 

will not only lead him to the vietories of this world, but open the 
very portals of Omnipotence for his admission. Cast your eye 
over the monumental map of ancient grandeur, once studded 
with the stars of empire and the splendors of philosophy. What 
erected the little State of Athens into a powerful Commonwealth, 
placing in her hand the sceptre of legislation, and wreathing 
round her brow the imperishable chaplet of literary fame ? 
What extended Rome, the heart of banditti, into universal em- 
pire ? What animated Sparta with that high, unbending, ada- 
mantine courage, which conquered Nature herself, and has fixed 
her in the sight of future ages, a model of public virtue, and a 
proverb of national independence ? What but those wise public 
institutions which strengthened their minds with early applica- 
tion, informed their infancy with the principles of actions, and 
sent them into the world too vigilant to be deceived by its calms, 
and too vigorous to be shaken by its whirlwinds ? 

C. Phillips. 



LXV. 
CHARACTER OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. 

TTE is fallen ! We may now pause before that splendid 
J — ■- prodigy, which towered amongst us like some ancient 
ruin, whose frown terrified the glance its magnificence attracted. 
Grand, gloomy, and peculiar, he sat upon the throne a scep- 
tered hermit, wrapped in the solitude of his own originality. 
A mind, bold, independent, and decisive, — a will, despotic in its 
dictates, — an energy that distanced expedition, and a conscience 
pliable to every touch of interest, marked the outline of this 
extraordinary character, — the most extraordinary, perhaps, that 
in the annals of this world ever rose, or reigned, or fell. Flung 
into life in the midst of a revolution that quickened every energy 
of a people who acknowledge no superior, he commenced his 
course, a stranger by birth, and a scholar by charity ! With no 
friend but his sword, and no fortune but his talents, he rushed 
into the list where rank, and wealth, and genius had arrayed 
themselves, and competition fell from him as from the glance of 
destiny. He knew no motive but interest, — he acknowledged 



88 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

no criterion but success, — he worshipped no God but ambition, 
and with an eastern devotion he knelt at the shrine of his idola- 
try. Subsidiary to this, there was no creed that he did not pro- 
fess, there was no opinion that he did not promulgate ; in the 
hope of a dynasty, he upheld the crescent ; for the sake of a 
divorce, he bowed before the cross ; the orphan of St. Louis, he 
became the adopted child of the republic ; and with a parricidal 
ingratitude, on the ruins both of the throne and the tribune, he 
reared the throne of his despotism. A professed Catholic, he 
imprisoned the pope ; a pretended patriot, he impoverished the 
country ; and in the name of Brutus, he grasped without remorse, 
and wore without shame, the diadem of the Caesars. 

C. Phillips. 



LXVI. 

A COLLISION OF VICES. 

ll/TY honorable and learned friend began by telling us that, 
after all, hatred is no bad thing in itself. " I hate a Tory," 
says my honorable friend ; " and another man hates a cat ; but it 
does not follow that he would hunt down the cat, or I the Tory." 
Nay, so far from it, hatred, if it be properly managed, is, accord- 
ing to my honorable friend's theory, no bad preface to a rational 
esteem and affection. It prepares its votaries for a reconciliation 
bf differences ; for lying down with their most inveterate ene- 
mies, like the leopard and the kid in the vision of the prophet. 
This dogma is a little startling, but it is not altogether without 
precedent. It is borrowed from a character in a play, which is, 
I dare say, as great a favorite with my learned friend as it is 
with me, — I mean the comedy of the Rivals ; in which Mrs. 
Malaprop, giving a lecture on the subject of marriage to her niece 
(who is unreasonable enough to talk of liking, as a necessary 
preliminary to such a union), says, " What have you to do with 
your likings and your preferences, child ? Depend upon it, it is 
safest to begin with a little aversion. I am sure I hated your 
poor dear uncle like a blackamoor before we were married ; and 
yet, you know, my dear, what a good wife I made him. 7 ' Such 
is my learned friend's argument, to a hair. But finding that this 
doctrine did not appear to go down with the House so glibly as 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 89 

he had expected, my honorable and learned friend presently 
changed his tack, and put forward a theory which, whether for 
novelty or for beauty, I pronounce to be incomparable ; and, in 
short, as wanting nothing to recommend it but a slight founda- 
tion in truth. " True philosophy," says my honorable friend, 
" will always continue to lead men to virtue by the instrumen- 
tality of their conflicting vices. The virtues, where more than 
one exists, may live harmoniously together ; but the vices bear 
mortal antipathy to one another, and, therefore, furnish to the 
moral engineer the power by which he can make each keep the 
other under control." Admirable ! but, upon this doctrine, the 
poor man who has but one single vice must be in a very bad 
way. No fulcrum, no moral power, for effecting his cure ! 
Whereas, his more fortunate neighbor, who has two or more 
vices in his composition, is in a fair way of becoming a very vir- 
tuous member of society. I wonder how my learned friend 
would like to have this doctrine introduced into his domestic 
establishment. For instance, suppose that I discharge a servant 
because he is addicted to liquor, I could not venture to recom- 
mend him to my honorable and learned friend. It might be the 
poor man's only fault, and therefore clearly incorrigible ; but, if 
I had the good fortune to find out that he was also addicted to 
stealing, might I not, with a safe conscience, send him to my 
learned friend w T ith a strong recommendation, saying, "I send 
you a man whom I know to be a drunkard ; but I am happy to 
assure you he is also a thief : you cannot do better than employ 
him ; you will make his drunkenness counteract his thievery, and 
no doubt you will bring him out of the conflict a very moral per- 
sonage ! " G. Canning. 



LXVII. 
"MEASURES, NOT MEN." 

F I am pushed to the wall, and forced to speak my opinion, I 
have no disguise nor reservation : — I do think that this is a 
time when the administration of the Government ought to be in 
the ablest and fittest hands ; I do not think the hands in which 
it is now placed answer to that description. I do not pretend to 



I 



90 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

conceal in what quarter I think that fitness most eminently 
resides; I do not subscribe to the doctrines which have been 
advanced, that, in times like the present, the fitness of individ- 
uals for their political situation is no part of the consideration to 
which a member of Parliament may fairly turn his attention. I 
know not a more solemn or important duty that a member of 
Parliament can have to discharge, than by giving, at fit seasons, 
a free opinion upon the character and qualities of public men. 
Away with the cant of " measures, not men ! " the idle supposi- 
tion that it is the harness, and not the horses, that draws the 
chariot along ! No, sir, if the comparison must be made, if the 
distinction must be taken, men are everything, measures com- 
paratively nothing. I speak, sir, of times of difficulty and dan- 
ger ; of times when systems are shaken, when precedents and 
general rules of conduct fail. Then it is, that not to this or that 
measure, — however prudently devised, however blameless in 
execution, — but to the energy and character of individuals, a 
state must be indebted for its salvation. Then it is that king- 
doms rise or fall in proportion as they are upheld, not by well- 
meant endeavors (laudable though they may be), but by com- 
manding, overawing talents, — by able men. 

And what is the nature of the times in which we live ? Look 
at France, and see what we have to cope with, and consider what 
has made her what she is. A man ! You will tell me that she 
was great, and powerful, and formidable, before the days of 
Bonaparte's government ; that he found in her great physical 
and moral resources ; that he had but to turn them to account. 
True, and he did so. Compare the situation in which he found 
France with that to which he has raised her. I am no pane- 
gyrist of Bonaparte ; but I cannot shut my eyes to the supe- 
riority of his talents, to the amazing ascendency of his genius. 
Tell me not of his measures and his policy. It is his genius, his 
character, that keeps the world in awe. Sir, to meet, to check, 
to curb, to stand up against him, we want arms of the same kind. 
I am far from objecting to the large military establishments 
which are proposed to you. I vote for them, with all my heart. 
But, for the purpose of coping with Bonaparte, one great, com- 
manding spirit is worth them all. G. Canning. 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 91 



lxvhi. 
PARLIAMENTARY REFORM. 



"TI/TY Lords, I do not disguise the intense solicitude which I 
"*" feel for the event of this debate, because I know full well 
that the peace of the country is involved in the issue. I cannot 
look without dismay at the rejection of this* measure of parlia- 
mentary reform. But, grievous as may be the consequences of a 
temporary defeat, temporary it can only be ; for its ultimate, and 
even speedy success, is certain. Nothing can now stop it. Do 
not suffer yourselves to be persuaded that, even if the present 
ministers were driven from the helm, any one could steer you 
through the troubles which surround you, without reform. But 
our successors would take up the task in circumstances far less 
auspicious. Under them, you would be fain to grant a bill, com- 
pared with which, the one we now proffer you is moderate indeed. 
Hear the parable of the Sibyl ; for it conveys a wise and 
wholesome moral. " She now appears at your gate, and offers 
you mildly the volumes — the precious volumes — of wisdom 
and peace. The price she asks is reasonable ; to restore the 
franchise, which, without any bargain, you ought voluntarily 
to give. You refuse her terms — her moderate terms ; — she 
darkens the porch no longer. But soon — for you cannot do 
without her wares — you call her back. Again she comes, but 
with diminished treasures ; the leaves of .the book are in part 
torn away by lawless hands, in part defaced with characters of 
blood. But the prophetic maid has risen in her demands ; — it is 
Parliaments by the year — it is vote by the ballot — it is suf- 
frage by the million ! From this you turn away indignant ; and, 
for the second time, she departs. Beware of her third coming ! 
for the treasure you must have ; and what price she may next 
demand, who shall tell ? It may even be the mace which rests 
upon that woolsack ! What may follow your course of obsti- 
nacy, if persisted in, I cannot take upon me to predict, nor do I 
wish to conjecture. But this I know full well ; that as sure as 
man is mortal, and to err is human, justice deferred enhances the 
price at which you must purchase safety and peace ; — nor can 
you expect to gather in another crop than they did who went be- 



92 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

fore you, if you persevere in their utterly abominable husbandry, 
of sowing injustice and reaping rebellion. 

But, among the awful considerations that now bow down my 
mind, there is one that stands preeminent above the rest. You 
are the highest judicature in the realm ; you sit here as judges, 
and decide all causes, civil and criminal, without appeal. It is a 
judge's first duty never to pronounce a sentence, in the most 
trifling case, withoul hearing. Will you make this the excep- 
tion ? Are you really prepared to determine, but not to hear, 
the mighty cause, upon which a Nation's hopes and fears hang ? 
You are ? Then beware of your decision ! Rouse not, I be- 
seech, you, a peace-loving but a resolute people ! Alienate not 
from your body the affections of a whole Empire ! As your 
friend, as the friend of my order, as the friend of my country, as 
the faithful servant of my sovereign, I counsel you to assist, 
with your uttermost efforts, in preserving the peace, and uphold- 
ing and perpetuating the Constitution. Therefore, I pray and 
exhort you not to reject this measure. By all you hold most 
dear — by all the ties that bind every one of us to our common 
order and our common country, I solemnly adjure you — I warn 
you — I implore you — yea, on my bended knees, I supplicate 

you, — reject not this bill ! Lord Brougham. 



LXIX. 
DENUNCIATION OF SLAVERY. 

f TRUST, at length the time has come, when Parliament will 
A no longer bear to be told, that slave-owners are the best 
lawgivers on slavery ; no longer suffer our voice to roll across 
the Atlantic in empty warnings and fruitless orders. Tell me 
not of rights, — talk not of the property of the planter in his 
slave. I deny his rights, — I acknowledge not the property. 
The principles, the feelings of our common nature, rise in rebel- 
lion against it. Be the appeal made to the understanding or to 
the heart, the sentence is the same, that rejects it. 

In vain you tell me of laws that sanction such a claim ! There 
is a law above all the enactments of human codes, — the same 
throughout the world, — the same in all times ; such as it was 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 93 

before the daring genius of Columbus pierced the night of ages, 
and opened to one world the source of power, wealth, and knowl- 
edge, — to the other, all unutterable woes, such is it at this day ; 
it is the law written by the finger of God on the heart of man ; 
and by that law, unchangeable and eternal, while men despise 
fraud, and loathe rapine, and hate blood, they shall reject with 
indignation the wild and guilty fantasy, that man can hold prop- 
erty in mai ! 

In vain ye appeal to treaties, — to covenants between nations. 
The covenants of the Almighty, whether the old covenant or the 
new, denounce such unholy pretensions. To these laws did they 
of old refer, who maintained the African trade. Such treaties 
did they cite, and not untruly ; for, by one shameful compact, 
you bartered the glories of Blenheim for the traffic in blood. 
Yet, in despite of law and of treaty, that infernal traffic is now 
destroyed, and its votaries put to death like other pirates. How 
came this change to pass ? Not, assuredly, by Parliament lead- 
ing the way ; but the country at length awoke ; the indignation 
of the people w T as kindled ; it descended in thunder, and smote 
the traffic, and scattered its guilty profit to the winds. 

Now, then, let the planters beware, — let their assemblies 
beware, — let the government at home beware, — let the Parlia- 
ment beware ! The same country is once more awake, — 
awake to the condition of negro slavery ; the same indignation 
kindles in the bosom of the same people ; the same cloud is 
gathering that annihilated the slave-trade ; and if it shall de- 
scend again, they, on whom its crash may fall, will not be 
destroyed before I have warned them ; but I pray that their 
destruction may turn away from us the more terrible judgments 
of God ! Lord Brougham. 

LXX. 

THE TEACHERS OF MANKIND. 

r INHERE is nothing which the adversaries of improvement 
are more wont to make themselves merry with than what 
is termed the " march of intellect ; " and here I will confess, that 
I think, as far as the phrase goes, they are in the right. It is a 
very absurd, because a very incorrect expression. It is little cal- 



94 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

culatcd to describe the operation in question. It does not picture 
an image at all resembling the proceedings of the true friends of 
mankind. It much more resembles the progress of the enemy to 
all improvement. The conqueror moves in a march. He stalks 
onward with the " pride, pomp, and circumstance of war," — 
banners flying — shouts rending the air — guns thundering — 
and martial music pealing, to drown the shrieks of the wounded, 
and the lamentations for the slain. f 

Not thus the schoolmaster, in his peaceful vocation. He medi- 
tates and prepares in secret the plans which are to bless man- 
kind ; he slowly gathers round him those who are to further 
their execution, — he quietly, though firmly, advances in his 
humble path, laboring steadily, but calmly, till he has opened to 
the light all the recesses of ignorance, and torn up by the roots 
the weeds of vice. His is a progress not to be compared with 
anything like a march ; but it leads to a far more brilliant 
triumph, and to laurels more imperishable than the destroyer of 
his species, the scourge of the world, ever won. 

Such men — men deserving the glorious title of Teachers of , 
Mankind — I have found, laboring conscientiously, though, per- 
haps obscurely, in their blessed vocation, wherever I have gone. 
I have found them, and shared their fellowship, among the dar- 
ing, the ambitious, the ardent, the indomitably active French ; 
I have found them among the persevering, resolute, industrious 
Swiss ; I have found them among the laborious, the warm- 
hearted, the enthusiastic Germans ; I have found them among 
the high-minded, but enslaved Italians ; and in our own coun- 
try, God be thanked, their numbers everywhere abound, and are 
every day increasing. 

Their calling is high and holy ; their fame is the property of 
nations ; their renown will fill the earth in after-ages, in propor- 
tion as it sounds not far off in their own times. Each one of 
those great teachers of the world, possessing his soul in peace, 
performs his appointed course ; awaits in patience the fulfilment 
of the promises ; and, resting from his labors, bequeathes his 
memory to the generation whom his works have blessed, and 
sleeps under the humble but not inglorious epitaph, commemo- 
rating " one in whom mankind lost a friend, and no man got rid 
of an enemy." Lord Brougham. 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 95 

LXXI. 
THE GREATNESS OF WASHINGTON. 

/"^ REAT he was, preeminently great, whether we regard him 
^^ sustaining alone the whole weight of campaigns all but 
desperate, or gloriously terminating a just warfare by his re- 
sources and his courage ; presiding over the jarring elements of 
his political council, alike deaf to the storms of all extremes, or 
directing the formation of a new government for a great people, 
the first time that so vast an experiment had ever been tried by 
man ; or, finally, retiring from the supreme power to which his 
virtue had raised him over the nation he had created, and whose 
destinies he had guided as long as his aid was required, — retir- 
ing with the veneration of all parties, of all nations, of all man- 
kind, in order that the rights of men might be conserved, and 
that his example never might be appealed to by vulgar tyrants. 

This is the consummate glory of Washington ; a triumphant 
warrior where the most sanguine had a right to despair ; a suc- 
cessful ruler in all the difficulties of a course wholly untried ; 
but a warrior, whose sword only left its sheath when the first 
law of our nature commanded it to be drawn ; and a ruler who, 
having tasted of supreme power, gently and unostentatiously 
desired that the cup might pass from him, nor would suffer more 
to wet his lips than the most solemn and sacred duty to his 
country and his God required ! 

To his latest breath did this great patriot maintain the noble 
character of a captain the patron of peace, and a statesman the 
friend of justice. Dying, he bequeathed to his heirs the sword 
which he had worn in the war for liberty, and charged them 
" never to take it from the scabbard but in self-defence, or in 
defence of their country and her freedom ; " and commanded 
them that, " when it should thus be drawn, they should never 
sheathe it, nor ever give it up, but prefer falling with it in their 
hands to the relinquishment thereof," — words, the majesty and 
simple eloquence of which are not surpassed in the oratory of 
Athens and Rome. 

It will be the duty of the historian and the sage, in all ages, 
to let no occasion pass of commemorating this illustrious man ; 



96 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

and, until time shall be no more, will a test of the progress which 
our nice has made in wisdom and virtue be derived from the ven- 
eration paid to the immortal name of Washington ! 

Lovd Brougham. 



LXXII. 

WASHINGTON, A MAN OF GENIUS. 

XT OW many times have we been told that Washington was 
not a man of genius, but a person of excellent common sense, 
of admirable judgment, of rare virtues ! He had no genius, it 
seems. no ! genius, we must suppose, is the peculiar and 
shining attribute of some orator, whose tongue can spout patri- 
otic speeches ; or some versifier, whose muse can hail Columbia ; 
but not of the man who supported States on his arm, and carried 
America in his brain. What is genius ? Is it worth anything ? 
Is splendid folly the measure of its inspiration ? Is wisdom its 
base and summit ? — that which it recedes from, or tends toward ? 
And by what definition do you award the name to the creator of 
an epic, and deny it to the creator of a country ? On what prin- 
ciple is it to be lavished on him who sculptures in perishing 
marble the image of possible excellence, and withheld from him 
who built up in himself a transcendent character, indestructible 
as the obligations of duty, and beautiful as her rewards ? 

Indeed, if by genius of action, you mean w r ill enlightened by 
intelligence, and intelligence energized by will, — if force and 
insight be its characteristics, and influence its test, and if great 
effects suppose a cause proportionally great, a vital, causative 
mind, — then was Washington most assuredly a man of genius, 
and one whom no other American has equalled in the power of 
working morally and mentally on other minds. His genius was 
of a peculiar kind, the genius of character, of thought, and the 
objects of thought solidified and concentrated into active faculty. 
He belongs to that rare class of men, — rare as Homers and 
Miltons, rare as Platos and Newtons, — who have impressed 
their characters upon nations without pampering national vices. 
Such men have natures broad enough to include all the facts of 
a people's practical life, and deep enough to discern the spiritual 
laws which underlie, animate, and govern those facts. 

* E. P. Whipple. 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 97 

LXXIII. 
IRISH ALIENS AND ENGLISH VICTORIES. 

I" SHOULD be surprised, indeed, if, while you are doing us 
- 1 - wrong, you did not profess your solicitude to do us justice. 
From the day on which Strongbow set his foot upon the shore of 
Ireland, Englishmen were never wanting in protestations of their 
deep anxiety to do us justice ; — even Strafford, the deserter of 
the people's cause, — the renegade Wentworth, who gave evi- 
dence in Ireland of the spirit of instinctive tyranny which pre- 
dominated in his character, — even Strafford, while he trampled 
upon our rights, and trod upon the heart of the country, protested 
his solicitude to do justice to Ireland ! What marvel is it, then, 
that gentlemen opposite should deal in # such vehement protes- 
tations ? There is, however, one man, of great abilities, — not a 
member of this House, but whose talents and whose boldness have 
placed him in the topmost place in his party, — who, disdaining 
all imposture, and thinking it the best course to appeal directly 
to the religious and national antipathies of the people of this 
country, — abandoning all reserve, and flinging off the slender 
veil by which his political associates affect to cover, although 
they cannot hide, their motives, — distinctly and audaciously 
tells the Irish people that they are not entitled to the same priv- 
ileges as Englishmen ; and pronounces them, in any particular 
which could enter his minute enumeration of the circumstances 
by which fellow-citizenship is created, in race, identity, and re- 
ligion to be aliens — to be aliens in race — to be aliens in coun- 
try — to be aliens in religion ! Aliens ! Good God ! was Arthur, 
Duke of Wellington, in the House of Lords, — and did he not 
start up and exclaim, "Hold ! 1 have seen the aliens do their duty ! " 
The Duke of Wellington is not a man of an excitable 
temperament. His mind is of a cast too martial to be easily 
moved ; but, notwithstanding his habitual inflexibility, I cannot 
help thinking that, when he heard his Roman Catholic country- 
men (for we are his countrymen) designated by a phrase as 
offensive as the abundant vocabulary of his eloquent confederate 
could supply, — I cannot help thinking that he ought to have 
recollected the many fields of fight in which we have been con- 
tributors to his renown. " The battles, sieges, fortunes, that he 



98 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

has passed," ought to have come back upon him. He ought to 
have remembered that, from the earliest achievement in which 
he displayed that military genius which has placed him foremost 
in the annals of modern warfare, down to that last and surpass- 
ing combat which has made his name imperishable, — from 
Assaye to Waterloo, — the Irish soldiers, with whom your 
armies are filled, were the inseparable auxiliaries to the glory 
with which his unparalleled successes have been crowned. 
Whose were the arms that drove your bayonets at Vimiera 
through the phalanxes that never reeled to the shock of war 
before ? What desperate valor climbed the steeps and filled the 
moats at Badajos? All his victories should have rushed and 
crowded back upon his memory, — Vimeira, Badajos, Salamanca, 

Albuera, Toulouse, and, last of all, the greatest . 

Tell me, — for you were there, — I appeal to the gallant soldier 
before me, from whose opinions I differ, but who bears, I know, a 
generous heart in an intrepid breast ; — tell me, — for you must 
needs remember, — on that day when the destinies of mankind 
were trembling in the balance, — while death fell in showers 
when the artillery of France was levelled with a precision of the 
most deadly science, — when her legions,, incited by the voice and 
inspired by the example of their mighty leader, rushed again 
and again to the onset, — tell me if, for an instant, when to hesi- 
tate for an instant was to be lost, the u aliens " blenched ? And 
when, at length, the moment for the last and decided movement 
had arrived, and the valor which had so long been wisely 
checked was, at last, let loose, — when, with words familiar but 
immortal, the great captain commanded the great assault, — tell 
me if Catholic Ireland with less heroic valor than the natives of 
this your own glorious country precipitated herself upon the foe ? 
The blood of England, Scotland, and of Ireland, flowed in the 
same stream, and drenched the same field. When the chill 
morning dawned, their dead lay cold and stark together ; — in 
the same deep pit their bodies were deposited ; the green corn 
of spring is now breaking from their commingled dust ; the dew 
falls from heaven upon their union in the grave. Partakers in 
every peril, in the .glory shall we not be permitted to partici- 
pate ; and shall we be told as a requital, that we are estranged 
from the noble country for whose salvation our life-blood was 
poured out ? r. l. Shell. 



o 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 99 

LXX1V. 
THE ILIAD AND %RE BIBLE. 

F all the books with which, since the invention of writing, 
this world has been deluged, very few have produced any 
perceptible effect on the mass of human character. By far the 
greater part have been, even by their contemporaries, unnoticed 
and unknown. Not many a one has made its little mark upon 
that generation that produced it, though it sunk with that gen- 
eration to utter forgetfulness. But, after the ceaseless toil of six 
thousand years, how few have been the works, the adamantine 
basis of whose reputation has stood unhurt amid the fluctuations 
of time, and whose impression can be traced through successive 
centuries, on the history of our species ! 

When, however, such a work appears, its effects are absolutely 
incalculable ; and such a work, you are aware, is the Iliad of 
Homer. Who can estimate the results produced by the incom- 
parable efforts of a single mind ? Who can tell what Greece 
owes to this first-born of song? Her breathing marbles, her 
solemn temples, her unrivalled eloquence, and her matchless 
verse, all point us to that transcendent genius, who, by the very 
splendor of his own effulgence, woke the human intellect from 
the slumber of ages. It was Homer who gave laws to the art- 
ist ; it was Homer who inspired the poet ; it was Homer who 
thundered in the Senate ; and, more than all, it was Homer who 
was sung by the people ; and hence a nation was cast into the 
mould of one mighty mind, and the land of the Iliad became the 
region of taste, the birthplace of the arts. 

But, considered simply as an intellectual production, who will 
compare the poems of Homer with the Holy Scriptures of the 
Old and New Testaments ? Where in the Iliad shall we find 
simplicity and pathos which shall vie with the narrative of 
Moses, or maxims of conduct to equal in wisdom the Proverbs 
of Solomon, or sublimity which does not fade away before the 
conceptions of Job, or David, or Isaiah, or St. John? But I 
cannot pursue this comparison. I feel that it is doing -wrong to 
the mind which dictated the Iliad, and to those other mighty in- 
tellects on whom the light of the holy oracles never shined. 



100 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

If, then, so great results have flowed from this one effort of a 
single mind, what may we not expect from the combined efforts 
of several, at least his equals in power over the human heart ? 
If that one genius, though groping in the thick darkness of 
absurd idolatry, wrought so glorious a transformation in the char- 
acter of his countrymen, what may we not look for from the 
universal dissemination of those writings on whose authors was 
poured the full splendor of eternal truth ? If unassisted human 
nature, spell-bound by a childish mythology, have done so much, 
what may we not hope for from the supernatural efforts of pre- 
eminent genius, which spake as it was moved by the Holy 

Ghost? Dr. Wayland, 

♦■ 

LXXV. 
ON ADMITTING CALIFORNIA TO THE UNION 

A YEAR ago, California was a mere military dependency of 
"^*~ our own. To-day, she is a State, more populous than the 
least, and richer than several of the greatest of our thirty States. 
This same California, thus rich and populous, is here asking 
admission into the Union, and finds us debating the dissolution 
of the Union itself. No wonder if we are perplexed with ever- 
changing embarrassments ! No wonder if we are appalled by 
ever-increasing responsibilities ! No wonder if we are bewil- 
dered by the ever-augmenting magnitude and rapidity of national 
vicissitudes ! 

Shall California be received ? For myself, upon my 
individual judgment and conscience, I answer — yes. Let Cali- 
fornia come in. Every new State, whether she come from the 
east or the west — every new State, coming from whatever part 
of the continent she may, is always welcome. But, California, 
that comes from the clime where the west dies away into the 
rising east, — California, that bounds at once the empire and the 
continent, — California, the youthful queen of the Pacific, in her 
robes of freedom, gorgeously inlaid with gold, is doubly welcome. 

The question now arises, shall this one great people, having a 
common origin, a common language, a common religion, common 
sentiments, interests, sympathies, and hopes, remain one political 
state, one nation, one republic ; or shall it be broken into two 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 101 

conflicting, and, probably, hostile nations or republics ? Shall the 
American people, then, be divided ? Before deciding on this 
question, let us consider our position, our power, and capabilities. 

The world contains no seat of empire so magnificent as this ; 
which, embracing all the varying climates of the temperate 
zone, and traversed by wide expanding lakes and long branch- 
ing rivers, offers supplies on the Atlantic shores to the over- 
crowded nations of Europe, and, on the Pacific coast, inter- 
cepts the commerce of the Indies. The nation thus situated, 
and enjoying forest, mineral, and agricultural resources un- 
equalled, if endowed, also, with moral energies adequate to the 
achievement of great enterprises, and favored with a government 
adapted to their character and condition, must command the 
empire of the seas, which, alone, is real empire. 

We think we may claim to have inherited physical and intel- 
lectual vigor, courage, invention, and enterprise ; and the sys- 
tems of education prevailing among us, open to all the stores of 
human science and art. The Old World and the Past were 
allotted by Providence to the pupilage of mankind. The New 
World and the Future seem to have been appointed for the 
maturity of mankind, with the development of self-government, 
operating in obedience to reason and judgment. 

We may, then, reasonably hope for greatness, felicity, and re- 
nown, excelling any hitherto attained by any nation, if, standing 
firmly on the continent, we lose not our grasp on either ocean. 
Whether a destiny so magnificent would be only partially de- 
feated, or whether it would be altogether lost by a relaxation 
of the grasp, surpasses our wisdom to determine, and happily 
it is not important to be determined. It is enough, if we agree, 
that expectations so grand, yet so reasonable and so just, ought 
not in any degree to be disappointed. And now, it seems to me, 
that the perpetual unity of the empire hangs on the decision of 
this day and this hour. 

California is already a State, — a complete and fully appointed 
State. She never again can be less than that. She never again 
can be a province or a colony ; nor can she be made to shrink or 
shrivel into the proportions of a federal dependent territory. 
California, then, henceforth and forever, must be, what she is 
now, — a State. 



102 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

The question whether she shall be one of the United States 
of America, has depended on her and on us. Her election has 
been made. Our consent alone remains suspended ; and that 
consent must be pronounced now or never. W. H. Seward. 



LXXVI. 
A HIGHWAY TO THE PACIFIC. 

"1%/TR. PRESIDENT, I go for a national highway from the 
-*-"-*- Mississippi to the Pacific. And I go against all schemes 
of individuals or of companies, and especially those who come 
here and ask of the Congress of the United States to give them- 
selves and their assigns the means of making a road, and tax- 
ing the people for the use of' it. If they should make it, they 
are to tax us for the use of it — tax the people eight or ten 
millions a year for using a road which their own money built. 
A fine scheme, that ! But they would never build it, neither 
themselves nor their assigns. It would all end in stock-jobbing. 
I repudiate the whole idea, sir. I go for a national highway — 
no stock-jobbing. 

We find all the localities of the country precisely such as a 
national central road would require. The Bay of San Francisco, 
the finest in the world, is in the centre of the western coast 
of North America ; it is central, and without a rival. It will 
accommodate the commerce of that coast, both north and south, 
up to the frozen regions, down to the torrid zone. It is central 
in that respect. The commerce of the broad Pacific Ocean will 
centre there. The commerce of Asia will centre there. Follow 
the same latitude across the country, and it strikes the centre of 
the valley of the Mississippi. It strikes the Mississippi near the 
confluence of all the great waters which concentrate in the valley 
of the Mississippi. It comes to the centre of the valley ; — it 
comes to St. Louis. Follow the prolongation of that central line, 
and you find it cutting the heart of the great States between the 
Mississippi River and the Atlantic Ocean, Illinois, Indiana, Ohio, 
a part of Virginia, Kentucky, and Pennsylvania, — they are all 
traversed or touched by that great central line. 

We own the country, from sea to sea, — from the Atlantic to 
the Pacific, — and upon a breadth equal to the length of the 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 103 

Mississippi, and embracing the whole temperate zone. Three* 
thousand miles across, and half that breadth, is the magnificent 
parallelogram of our domain. We can run a national central 
road through and through, the whole distance, under our flag 
and under our laws. Military reasons require us to make it ; 
for troops and munitions -must go there. Political reasons re- 
quire us to make it ; it will be a chain of union between the 
Atlantic and Pacific States. Commercial reasons demand it 
from us ; and here I touch a boundless field, dazzling and be- 
wildering the imagination from its vastness and importance. 
The trade of the Pacific Ocean, of the western coast of North 
America, and 'of eastern Asia, will all take its track ; and not 
only for ourselves, but for posterity. 

Sir, in no instance has the great Asiatic trade failed to carry 
the nation or the people which possessed it to the highest pin- 
nacle of wealth and power, and Avith it, to the highest attainments 
of letters, art, and science. And so will it continue to be. An 
American road to India, through the heart of our country, will 
revive upon its line all the wonders of which we have read, and 
eclipse them. The western wilderness, from the Pacific to the 
Mississippi, will spring into life under its touch. A long line of 
cities will grow up. Existing cities will take a new start. The 
state of the world calls for a new road to India, and it is our 
destiny to give it — the last and greatest. Let us act up to the 
greatness of the occasion, and show ourselves worthy of the ex- 
traordinary circumstances in which we are placed, by securing, 
while we can, an American road to India, central and national, 
for ourselves and our posterity, now and hereafter, for thousands 
of years to come. T. H. Benton. 



% 



LXXVII. 
ADDRESS TO POLISH EXILES AT LONDON. 

TT is eighty-one years since Poland first was quartered by a 
nefarious act of combined royalty, which the Swiss Tacitus, 
John Muller, well characterized by saying that " God permitted 
the act, to show the morality of kings ; " and it is twenty-four 
years since down-trodden Poland made the greatest — not the 
last — manifestation of her imperishable vitality, which the cab- 



104 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

•inets of Europe were either too narrow-minded to understand, or 
too corrupt to appreciate. Eighty-one years of still unretributed 
crime, and twenty-four years of misery and exile ! It is a long 
time to suffer, and not to despair. 

And all along this time, you, proscribed patriots of Poland, 
were suffering, and did not despair. • You stood up before the 
world, a living statue, with unquenchable life-flame of patriotism 
streaming through its petrified limbs ; you stood up a protest of 
eternal right against the sway of imperious might ; a " Mene 
Tekel Upharsin," written in letters of burning blood on the walls 
of overweening despotism. Time, misery, and sorrow have 
thinned the ranks of your scattered Israel ; you have carried 
your dead to the grave, and those who survive went on to suffer 
and to hope. Wherever oppressed Freedom reared a banner, 
you rallied around ; — the living statue changed to a fighting 
hero. Many of yours fell; and, when crime triumphed once 
more over virtue and right, you resumed the wandering exile's 
staff, and did not despair. Many among you, who were young 
when they last saw the sun rise over Poland's mountains and 
plains, have your hair whitened and your strength broken with 
age, anguish, and misery ; but the patriotic heart kept the fresh- 
ness of its youth ; it is young in love for Poland, young in aspi- 
rations for freedom, young in hope, and youthfully fresh in deter- 
mination to break Poland's chains. 

What a rich source of noble deeds patriotism must be, that 
has given you strength to suffer so much and never to despair ! 
You have given a noble example to all of us, — your younger 
brother in the family of exiles. When the battle of Cannae was 
lost, and Hannibal was measuring by bushels the rings of the 
fallen Roman knights, the Senate of Rome voted thanks to 
Consul Terentius Varro for " not having despaired of the Com- 
monwealth." Proscribed patriots of Poland ! I thank you that 
you have not despaired of resurrection and of liberty. The 
time draws nigh when the oppressed nations will call their 
aggressors to a last account ; and the millions of freemen, in the 
fulness of their right, and their self-conscious strength, will pass 
judgment on arrogant conquerors, privileged murderers, and per- 
jured kings. In that supreme trial, the oppressed nations will 
stand one for all, and all for one. l. Kossuth. 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 105 



LXXVIII. 
KOSSUTH ON HIS CREDENTIALS. 

(" ET ambitious fools, — let the pigmies who live on the scanty 
"^ food of personal envy, when the very earth quakes beneath 
their feet ; let even the honest prudence of ordinary household 
times, measuring eternity with that thimble with which they are 
wont to measure the bubbles of small party interest, and, taking 
the dreadful roaring of the ocean for a storm in a water-glass ; — 
let those who believe the weather to be calm, because they have 
drawn a nightcap over their ears, and, burying their heads in pil- 
lows of domestic comfort, do not hear Satan sweeping in a hur- 
ricane over the earth ; — let envy, ambition, blindness, and the 
pettifogging wisdom of small times, — let all these artistically 
investigate the question of my official capacity, or the nature of 
my public authority ; let them scrupulously discuss the immense 
problem whether I still possess, or possess no longer, the title of 
my once-Governorship ; let them ask for credentials, discuss the 
limits of my commission, as representative of Hungary. I pity 
all such frog and mouse fighting. 

I claim no official capacity, — no public authority, — no repre- 
sentation ; — boast of no commission, of no written and sealed 
credentials. I am nothing but what my generous friend, the 
senator from Michigan, has justly styled me, " a private and 
banished man." But, in that capacity, I have a nobler creden- 
tial for my mission than all the clerks of the world can write, — 
the credential that I am a " man ; " the credential that I am a 
f patriot ; " the credential that I love with all sacrificing devotion 
my oppressed fatherland and liberty ; the credential that I hate 
tyrants, and have sworn everlasting hostility to them ; the cre- 
dential that I feel the strength to do good service to the cause of 
freedom; good service, as perhaps few men can do, because I 
have the iron will, in this my breast, to serve faithfully, devot- 
edly, indefatigably, that noble cause. 

I have the credential that I trust to God in heaven, — to jus- 
tice on earth ; that I offend no laws, but cling to the protection 
of the laws. I have the credential of my people's undeniable 
confidence and its unshaken faith ; to my devotion, to my manli- 



106 THE UNION SPEAKER 

ness, to my honesty, and to my patriotism ; which faith I will 
honestly answer without ambition, without interest, as faithfully 
as ever, but more skilfully, because schooled by adversities. 
And I have the credential of the justice of the cause I plead, 
and of the wonderful sympathy which, not my person, but that 
cause, has met, and meets, in two hemispheres. 

These are my credentials, and nothing else. To whom this is 
enough, he will help me, so far as the law permits and it is his 
good pleasure. To whom these credentials are not sufficient, let 
him look for a better accredited man. 



LXXIX. 
THE IDES OF MARCH 

PTIO-DAY is the fourth anniversary of the Revolution in Hun- 
gary. 

Anniversaries of revolutions are almost always connected 
with the recollections of some patriot's death, — fallen on that 
day, like the Spartans at Thermopylae, martyrs of devotion to 
their fatherland. 

Almost in every country there is some proud cemetery, or 
some modest tombstone, adorned on such a day by a garland of 
evergreen, — the pious offering of patriotic tenderness. 

I passed the last night in a sleepless dream ; and my soul 
wandered on the magnetic wings of the past, home to my be- 
loved, bleeding land. And I saw, in the dead of the night, dark 
veiled shapes, with the paleness of eternal grief upon their 
brow — but terrible in the tearless silence of that grief — glid- 
ing over the churchyards of Hungary, and kneeling down to the 
head of the graves, and depositing the pious tribute of green 
and cypress upon them ; and, after a short prayer, rising with 
clenched fists and gnashing teeth, and then stealing away tearless 
and silent as they came, — stealing away, because the blood- 
hounds of my country's murder lurks from every corner on 
that night, and on this day, and leads to prison those who dare 
to show a pious remembrance to the beloved. To-day, a smile 
on the lips of a Magyar is taken for a crime of defiance to tyr- 
anny ; and a tear in his eye is equivalent to a revolt. And yet 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 107 

I have seen, with the eye of my home-wandering soul, thousands 
performing the work of patriotic piety. 

And I saw more. When the pious offerers stole away, I saw 
the honored dead half risen from their tombs, looking to the 
offerings, and whispering gloomily, " Still a cypress, and still no 
flower of joy ! Is there still the chill of winter and the gloom of 
night over thee, Fatherland ? Are we not yet revenged ? " And 
the sky of the east reddened suddenly, and quivered with bloody 
flames ; and from the far, far west, a lightning flashed like a 
star-spangled stripe, and within its light a young eagle mounted 
and soared towards the quivering flames of the east ; and as he 
drew near, upon his approaching, the flames changed into a 
radiant morning sun, and a voice from above was heard in an- 
swer to the question of the dead : 

" Sleep yet a short while ; mine is the revenge. I will make 
the stars of the west the sun of the east ; and when ye next 
awake, ye will find the flower of joy upon your cold bed." 

And the dead took the twig of cypress, the sign of resurrec- 
tion, into their bony hands, and lay down. 

Such was the dream of my waking soul. And I prayed ; and 
such was my prayer : " Father, if thou deemest me worthy, take 
the cup from my people, and give it in their stead to me." And 
there was a whisper around me like the word "Amen." Such 
was my dream, half foresight and half prophecy ; but resolution 
all. However, none of those dead whom I saw, fell on the loth 
of March. They were victims' of the royal perjury which be- 
trayed the loth of March. The anniversary of our Revolution 
has not the stain of a single drop of blood. L. Kossuth. 



LXXX. 

THE SAME CONTINUED. 

\\TE, the elect of the nation, sat on that morning busily but 
quietly, in the legislative hall of old Presburg, and, with- 
out any flood of eloquence, passed our laws in short words, that 
the people shall be free ; the burdens of feudality shall cease ; 
the peasant shall become free proprietor ; that equality of duties, 
equality of rights, shall be the fundamental law ; and civil, polit- 



108 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

ical, social, and religious liberty, shall be the common property 
of all the people, whatever tongue it may speak, or in whatever 
church pray ; and that a national ministry shall execute these 
laws, and guard with its responsibility the chartered, ancient in- 
dependence of our Fatherland. 

Two days before, Austria's brave people in Vienna had broken 
its yoke ; and summing up despots in the person of their tool, old 
Metternich, drove him away ; and the Hapsburgs, trembling in 
their imperial cavern of imperial crimes, trembling, but treacher- 
ous, and lying and false, wrote with yard-long letters, the words, 
" Constitution " and " Free Press," upon Vienna's walls ; and 
the people in joy cheered the inveterate liars, because the people 
knows no falsehood. 

On the 14th, I announced the tidings from Vienna to our 
Parliament at Presburg. The announcement was swiftly car- 
ried by the great democrat, the steam-engine, upon the billows 
of the Danube, down to old Buda and to young Pesth, and while 
we, in the House of Representatives, passed the laws of justice 
and freedom, the people of Pesth rose in peaceful but majestic 
manifestation, declaring that the people should be free. At this 
manifestation all the barriers raised by violence against the laws, 
fell of themselves. Not a drop of blood was shed. A man who 
was in prison because he had dared to write a book, was carried 
home in triumph through the streets. The people armed itself 
as a National Guard, the windows were illuminated and bon- 
fires burnt, and when these tidings returned back to Presburg, 
blended with the cheers from Vienna, they warmed the chill of 
our House of Lords, who readily agreed to the laws we pro- 
posed. And there was rejoicing throughout the land. For the^ 
first time for centuries the farmer awoke with the pleasant feel- 
ing that his time w T as now his own — for the first time went out 
to till his field with the consoling thought that the ninth part of 
his harvest will not be taken by the landlord, nor the tenth by 
the bishop. Both had fully resigned their feudal portion, and the 
air was brightened by the lustre of freedom, and the very soil 
budding into a blooming paradise. Such is the memory of the 
15th of March, 1848. L. Kossuth. 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 109 



LXXXI. 

TUE SAME CONTINUED. 

/^VNE year later, there was blood, but also victory, over the 
^-^ land ; the people because free, fought like demi-gods. Seven 
great victories we had gained in that month of March. On this 
very day, the remains of the first ten thousand Russians fled 
over the frontiers of Transylvania, to tell at home how heavily 
the blow falls from free Hungarian arms. It was in that very 
month, that one evening I lay down in the bed, whence in the 
morning Windischgratz had risen ; and from the battle-field I 
hastened to the Congress at Debreczin, to tell the Representa- 
tives of the nation " It is time to declare our national indepen- 
dence, because it is really achieved. The Hapsburgs have not 
power to contradict it more." Nor had they. 

But Russia, having experienced by the test of its first inter- 
ference, that there was no power on earth caring about the most 
flagrant violation of the laws of nations, and seeing by the silence 
of Great Britain and of the United States, that she may dare to 
violate those laws, our heroes had to meet a fresh force of nearly 
two hundred thousand Russians. No power cheered our bravely- 
won independence by diplomatic recognition ; not even the 
United States, though they always professed their principle to be 
that they recognize every de facto government. We therefore 
had the right to expect a speedy recognition from the United 
States. Our struggle rose to European height, but we were left 
alone to fight for the world ; and we had no arms for the new 
battalions, gathering up in thousands with resolute hearts and 
empty hands. 

The recognition of our independence being withheld, com- 
mercial intercourse for procuring arms abroad was impossible, — 
the gloomy feeling of entire forsakedness spread over our tired 
ranks, and prepared the field for the secret action of treachery ; 
until the most sacrilegious violation of those common laws of 
nations was achieved, and the code of " nature and of nature's 
God " was drowned in Hungary's blood. And I, who on the 
15th of March, 1848, saw the principle of full civil and religious 
liberty triumphing in my native land, — who, on the 15th of 



110 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

March, 1849, saw this freedom consolidated by victories, — one 
year later, on the 15th of March, 1850, was on my sorrowful 
way to an Asiatic prison. l. Kossuth. 



Lxxxn. 

TEE SAME CONCLUDED. 

X> UT wonderful are the ways of Divine Providence. It was 
-^ again in the month of March, 1851, that the generous in- 
terposition of the United States cast the first ray of fiope into 
the dead night of my captivity. And on the loth of March, 

1852, the fourth anniversary of our Revolution, guided by the 
bounty of Providence, here I stand, in the very heart of your 
immense Republic ; no longer a captive, but free in the land of 
the free, not only not desponding, but firm in confidence of the 
future, because raised in spirits by a swelling sympathy in the 
home of the brave ; still a poor, a homeless exile, but not without 
some power to do good to my country and to the cause of liberty, 
as my very persecution proves. Such is the history of the loth 
of March, in my humble life. Who can tell what will be the 
character of the next 15th of March? 

Nearly two thousand years ago, the first Caesar found a Brutus 
on the Ides or 15th of March. May be that the Ides of March, 

1853, will see the last of the Caesars fall under the avenging 
might of a thousand-handed Brutus — the name of whom is 
" the people " — inexorable at last after it has been so long gen- 
erous. The seat of the Caesars was first in the south, then from 
the south to the east, from the east to the west, and from the 
west to the north. That is their last abode. None was lasting 
yet. Will the last, and worst, prove luckier ? No, it will not. 
While the seat of the Caesars was tossed around and thrown 
back to the icy north, a new world became the cradle of a new 
humanity, where, in spite of the Caesars, the Genius of Freedom 
raised (let us hope) an everlasting throne. The Caesar of the 
north and the Genius of Freedom have not place enough upon 
this earth for both of them ; one must yield and be crushed 
beneath the heels of the other. Which is it ? Which shall 
yield ? America may decide. L - Kossuth. 






STANDARD SELECTIONS. Ill 

LXXXIII. 
THE MAYFLOWER AND THE PILGRIMS. 

"\/\ ETIIINKS I see it now, that one solitary, adventurous 
-L'- 1 - vessel, the Mayflower of a forlorn hope, freighted with the 
prospects of a future state, and bound across the unknown sea. 
I behold it pursuing, with a thousand misgivings, the uncertain, 
the tedious voyage. Suns rise and set, and weeks, and months 
pass, and winter surprises them on the deep, but brings them 
not the sight of the wished-for shore. I see them now, scan- 
tily supplied with provisions, crowded almost to suffocation in 
their ill-stored prison, delayed by calms, pursuing a circuitous 
route ; and now, driven in fury before the raging tempest, in their 
scarcely seaworthy vessel. The awful voice of the storm howls 
through the rigging. The laboring masts seem straining from 
their base ; the dismal sound of the pumps is heard ; the ship 
leaps, as it were, madly from billow to billow ; the ocean 
breaks, and settles with ingulfing floods over the floating deck, 
and beats with deadening weight, against the staggered vessel. 
I see them, escaped from these perils, pursuing their all but 
desperate undertaking, and landed at last, after a five months' 
passage, on the ice-clad rocks of Plymouth, weak and weary 
from the voyage, poorly armed, scantily provisioned, depending 
on the charity of their shipmaster for a draught of beer on 
board, drinking nothing but water on shore, without shelter, 
without means, surrounded by hostile tribes. 

Shut now the volume of history, and tell me, oh any principle 
of human probability, what shall be the fate of this handful of 
adventurers. Tell me, man of military science, in how many 
months were they all swept off by the thirty savage tribes, 
enumerated within the early limits of New England ? Tell me, 
politician, how long did this shadow of a colony, on which your 
conventions and treaties had not smiled, languish on the distant 
coast ? Student of history, compare for me the baffled projects, 
the deserted settlements, the abandoned adventures of other 
times, and find the parallel of this. Was it the winter's storm, 
beating upon the houseless heads of women and children? 
was it hard labor and spare meals ? was it disease ? was it 
the tomahawk? was it the deep malady of blighted hope, a 



112 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

ruined enterprise, and a broken heart, aching in its last moments 
at the recollection of the loved and left, beyond the sea ? — was it 
some, or all of these united, that hurried this forsaken company 
to their melancholy fate? And is it possible that neither of 
these causes, that not all combined, were able to blast this bud 
of hope ? Is it possible, that from a beginning so feeble, so frail, 
so worthy, not so much of admiration as of pity, there has gone 
forth a progress so steady, a growth so wonderful, a reality so 
important, a promise yet to be fulfilled so glorious ? e. Everett. 



LXXXIV. 

THE DISCOVERY OF AMERICA. 

\ FTER years of fruitless and heart-sick solicitation, after 
-*■-*- offering, iu effect, to this monarch and to that monarch, the 
gift of a hemisphere, the great discoverer touches upon a partial 
success. He succeeds, not in enlisting the sympathy of his 
countrymen at Genoa and Venice, for a brave brother-sailor, — 
not in giving a new direction to the spirit of maritime adventure, 
which had so long prevailed in Portugal, — not in stimulating 
the commercial thrift of Henry the Seventh, or the pious ambi- 
tion of the Catholic king. His sorrowful perseverance touched 
the heart of a noble princess, worthy the throne which she 
adorned. The New World, which was just escaping the subtle 
kingcraft of Ferdinand, was saved to Spain by the womanly 
compassion of Isabella. 

It is truly melancholy, however, to contemplate the wretched 
equipment, for which the most powerful princess of Christendom 
was ready to pledge her jewels. Floating castles will soon be 
fitted out to convey the miserable natives of Africa to the golden 
shores of America ; towering galleons will be despatched to 
bring home the guilty treasures to Spain. But three small 
vessels, one of which was without a deck, and neither of them, 
probably, exceeding the capacity of a pilot-boat, and even these 
impressed into the public service, composed the expedition fitted 
out under royal patronage, to realize that magnificent conception, 
in which the creative mind of Columbus had planted the germs 
of a new world. 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 113 

No chapter of romance equals the interest of this expedition. 
The most fascinating of the works of fiction which have issued 
from the modern press have, to my taste, no attraction com- 
pared with the pages in which the first voyage of Columbus is 
described by Robertson, and still more by our own Irving and 
Presoott, the last two enjoying the advantage over the Scot- 
tish historian of possessing the lately discovered journals and 
letters of Columbus himself. The departure from Palos, where, 
a few days before, he had begged a morsel of bread and a cup 
of water for his wayworn child, — his final farewell to the Old 
World at the Canaries, — his entrance upon the trade winds, 
which then, for the first time, filled a European sail, — the por- 
tentous variation of the needle, never before observed, — the 
fearful course westward and westward, day after day, and night 
after night, over the unknown ocean, — the mutinous and ill- 
appeased crew ; — at length, when hope had turned to despair 
in every heart but one, the tokens of land, — the cloud- 
banks on the western horizon, — the logs of drift-wood, — the 
fresh shrub, floating with its leaves and berries, — the flocks of 
land-bir^s, — the shoals of fish that inhabit shallow water, — the 
indescribable smell of the shore, — the mysterious presentiment 
that seems ever to go before a great event, — and finally, on that 
ever-memorable night of the 12th of October, 1492, the moving 
light seen by the sleepless eye of the great discoverer himself, 
from the deck of the Santa Maria, and in the morning the real, 
undoubted land, swelling up from the bosom of the deep, with its 
plains, and hills, and forests,' and rocks, and streams, and strange, 
new races of men ; — these are incidents in which the authentic 
history of the discovery of our Continent excels the specious 
wonders of romance, as much as gold excels tinsel, or the sun in 
the heavens outshines the flickering taper. e. Everett. 



LXXXV. 

ADAMS AND JEFFERSON. 



X^TE dismiss them not to the chambers of forgetfulness and 

death. What we admired, and prized, and venerated in 

them, can never be forgotten. I had almost said that they are 



114 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

now beginning to live ; to live that life of unimpaired influence, 
of unclouded fame, of unmingled happiness, for which their tal- 
ents and services were destined. Such men do not, cannot die. 
To be cold and breathless ; to feel not and speak not ; this is not 
the end of existence to the men who have breathed their spirits 
*into the institutions of their country, who have stamped their 
characters on the pillars of the age, who have poured their 
hearts' blood into the channels of the public prosperity. Tell 
me, ye who tread the sods of yon sacred height, is Warren 
dead ? Can you not still see him, not pale and prostrate, the 
blood of his gallant heart pouring out of his ghastly wound, but 
moving resplendent over the field of honor, with the rose of 
heaven upon his cheek, and the fire of liberty in his eye ? Tell 
me, ye who make your pious pilgrimage to the shades of Vernon, 
is Washington indeed shut up in that cold and narrow house ? 
That which made these men, and men like these, cannot die. 
The hand that traced the charter of Independence is, indeed, 
motionless ; the eloquent lips that sustained it are hushed ; but 
the lofty spirits that conceived, resolved, and maintained it, and 
which alone, to such men, " make it life to live," these- cannot 
expire ; — 

" These shall resist the empire of decay, 
When time is o'er, and worlds have passed away ; 
Cold in the dust the perished heart may lie, 
But that which warmed it once can never die." 

E. Everett. 



LXXXVI. 
THE INDIAN CHIEF TO THE WHITE SETTLER. 

rilHINK of the country for which the Indians fought ! Who 

can blame them ? As Philip looked down from his seat 

on Mount Hope, that glorious eminence, that^ 

" throne of royal state, which far 

Outshone the wealth of Ormus and of Ind, 
Or where the gorgeous East, with richest hand, 
Showers on her kings barbaric pearl and gold," — 

as he looked down, and beheld the lovely scene which spread 
beneath, at a summer sunset, the distant hill-tops glittering a 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 115 

with fire, the slanting beams streaming across the waters, the 
broad plains, the island groups, the majestic forest, — could he 
be blamed, if his heart burned witly'n him, as he beheld it all 
passing, by no tardy process, from beneath his control, into the 
hands of the stranger ? 

As the river chieftains — the lords of the waterfalls and the 
mountains — ranged this lovely valley can it be wondered at, 
if they beheld with bitterness the forest disappearing beneath 
the settler's axe ? the fishing-place disturbed by his saw-mills ? 
Can we not fancy the feelings with which some strong-minded 
savage, the chief of the Pocomtuck Indians, who should have 
ascended the summit of the Sugar-loaf Mountain, (rising as it 
does before us, at this moment, in all its loveliness and grandeur,) 
— in company with a friendly settler, — contemplating the prog- 
ress already made by the white man, and marking the gigantic 
strides with which he was advancing into the wilderness, should 
fold his arms and say, " White man, there is eternal Avar be- 
tween me and thee ! I quit not the land of my fathers, but 
with my life. In those woods, where I bent my youthful bow, 
I will still hunt the deer ; over yonder waters I will still glide, 
unrestrained, in my bark canoe. By those dashing waterfalls I 
will still lay up my winter's store of food ; on these fertile mead- 
ows I will still *plant my corn. 

" Stranger, the land is mine ! I understand not these paper 
rights. I gave not my consent, when, as thou sayest, these 
broad regions were purchased, for a few baubles, of my fathers. 
They could sell what was theirs ; they could sell no more. 
How could my father sell that which the Great Spirit sent me 
into the world to live upon ? They knew not what they did. 

" The stranger came, a timid suppliant, — few and feeble, and 
asked to lie down on the red man's bear-skin, and warm himself 
at the red man's fire, and have a little piece of land to raise corn 
for his women and children ; and now he is become strong, 
and mighty, and bold, and spreads out his parchments over the 
whole, and says, ' It is mine.' 

u Stranger ! there is not room for us both. The Great Spirit 
has not made us to live together. There is poison in the white 
man's cup ; the white man's dog barks at the red man's heels. 
If I should leave the land of my fathers, whither shall I fly ? 



116 TEE UNION SPEAKER. 

Shall I go to the south, and dwell among the graves of the Pe- 
quots ? Shall I wander to the west, the fierce Mohawk, — the 
man-eater, — is my foe. Shall I fly to the east, the great water 
is before me. No, stranger ; here I have lived, and here will I 
die ; and if here thou abidest, there is eternal war between me 
and thee. 

" Thou hast taught me- thy arts of destruction ; for that alone 
I thank thee. And now take heed to thy steps ; the red man is 
thy foe. When thou goest forth by day, my bullet shall whistle 
past thee ; when thou liest down by night, my knife is at thy 
throat. The noonday sun shall not discover thy enemy, and the 
darkness of midnight shall not protect thy rest. Thou shalt plant 
in terror, and I will reap in blood ; thou shalt sow the earth 
with corn, and I will strew it with ashes ; thou shalt go forth 
with the sickle, and I will follow after with the scalping-knife ; 
thou shalt build, and I will burn, — till the white man or 
the Indian perish from the land." e. Everett. 



Lxxxvn. 

THE MEN OF "SEVENTY-SIX." 

TF we look only at one part of the work of the men of 76, 
if we see them poring over musty parchments by the mid- 
night lamp, citing the year-books against writs of assistance, 
disputing themselves hoarse, about this phrase in the charter 
of Charles the First, and that section in a statute of Edward the 
Third, we should be disposed to class them with the most big- 
oted conservatives that ever threw a drag-chain around the limbs 
of a young and ardent people. But, gracious heavens, look at 
them again, when the trumpet sounds the hour of resistance ; 
survey the other aspect of their work. See these undaunted 
patriots, in their obscure caucus gatherings, in their town-meet- 
ings, in their provincial assemblies, in their continental congress, 
breathing defiance to the British Parliament and the British 
throne. March with their raw militia to the conflict with the 
trained veterans of the seven years' war. Witness them, a group 
of colonies, extemporized into a confederacy, entering with a 
calm self-possession into alliance with the oldest monarchy in 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 117 

Europe ; and occupying, as they did, a narrow belt of territory 
along the coast, thinly peopled, partially cleared, hemmed in 
by the native savage, by the Alleghanies, by the Ohio, and the 
Lakes ; behold them dilating with the grandeur of the posi- 
tion, radiant in the prospective glories of their career, casting 
abroad the germs of future independent States, destined, at no 
distant day, not merely to cover the face of the thirteen British 
colonies, but to spread over the territories of France and Spain 
on this ^continent, over Florida and Louisiana, over New Mex- 
ico and California, beyond the Mississippi, beyond the Rocky 
Mountains, — to unite the Atlantic and the Pacific Oceans, the 
arctic and the torrid zones, in one great network of confeder- 
ate republican government. Contemplate this, and you will ac- 
knowledge the men of Seventy-six to have been the boldest 
men of progress that the world has ever seen ! 

These are the men whom the Fourth of July invites us to 
respect and to imitate ; — the James Otises and the Warrens, 
the Franklins and the Adamses, the Patrick Henrys and the 
Jeffersons, and him whom I may not name in the plural number, 
brightest of the bright and purest of the pure, — Washington 
himself. But let us be sure to imitate them, (or strive to do so,) 
in alHheir great principles, in both parts of their noble and com- 
prehensive policy. Let us reverence them as they reverenced 
their predecessors, — not seeking to build up the future on the 
ruins of all that had gone before, nor yet to bind down the liv- 
ing, breathing, burning present to the mouldering relics of the 
dead past, — but deducing the rule of a bold and safe progress, 
from the records of a wise and glorious experience, e. Everett. 



LXXXVIII. 
THE SAME CONCLUDED. 

T1TE live at an era as eventful, in my judgment, as that of 
76, though in a different way. We have no foreign 
yoke to throw off; but in the discharge of the duty devolved 
upon us by Providence, we have to carry the republican in- 
dependence which our fathers achieved, with all the organized 
institutions of an enlightened community, institutions of religion, 



118 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

law, education, charity, art, and all the thousand graces of 
the higher culture, beyond the Missouri, beyond the Sierra 
Nevada ; perhaps, in time, around the circuit of the Antilles ; 
perhaps to the archipelagoes of the Central Pacific. The pio- 
neers are on the way. Who can tell how far and fast they will 
travel ? Who, that compares the North America of 1753, but a 
century ago, and numbering but little over a million of souls of 
European origin ; or still more the North America of 1653, 
when there was certainly not a fifth part of that number ; who 
that compares this with the North America of 1853, its twenty- 
two millions of European origin, and its thirty-one States, will 
venture to assign limits to our growth ; will dare to compute 
the time-table of our railway progress, or lift so much as a cor- 
ner of the curtain that hides the crowded events of the coming 
century ? 

This only we can plainly see ; — the Old World is rocking to 
its foundations. From the Gulf of Finland to the Yellow Sea, 
everything is shaken. The spirit of the age has gone forth to 
hold his great review, and the kings of the earth are moved to 
meet him at his coming. The band which holds the great pow- 
ers of Europe together in one political league, is strained to its. 
utmost tension. The catastrophe may for a while be staved 
off; but to all appearance they are hurrying to the verge of one 
of those conflicts which, like those of Pharsalia and Actium, 
affect the condition of States for twice ten centuries. The 
Turkish empire, encamped but for four centuries on the fron- 
tiers of Europe, and the Chinese monarchy, contemporary with 
David and Solomon, are alike crumbling. 

While these events are passing in the Old World, a tide of 
emigration, which has no parallel in history, is pouring west- 
ward, across the Atlantic, and eastward, across the Pacific, to 
our shores. The real political vitality of the world seems mov- 
ing to the new hemisphere, whose condition and fortune it 
devolves upon us and our children to mould and regulate. 

It is a grand, — let me say, a solemn thought, — well calcu- 
lated to still the passions of the day, and to elevate us above the 
paltry strife of parties. It teaches us that we are called to the 
highest, and, I do verily believe, the most momentous trust that 
ever devolved upon one generation of men. Let us meet it 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 119 

with a corresponding temper and purpose, — with the wisdom 
of a well-instructed experience, and with the foresight and prepa- 
ration of a glorious future ; not on the narrow platforms of party- 
policy and temporary expediency, hut in the broad and compre- 
hensive spirit of Seventy-six. £. Everett. 



LXXXIX. 

OUR COMMON SCHOOLS 

O IR, it is our common schools which gives the keys of knowl- 
^ edge to the mass of the people. Our common schools are 
important in the same way as the common air, the common 
sunshine, the common rain, — invaluable for their commonness. 
They are the corner-stone of that municipal organization which 
is the characteristic feature of our social system ; they are the 
fountain of that widespread intelligence which, like a moral 
life, pervades the country. 

From the humblest village-school there may go forth a teacher 
who, like Newton, shall bind his temples with the stars of Ori- 
on's belt ; with Herschel, light up his cell with the beams of 
before-undiscovered planets ; with Franklin, grasp the lightning. 
Columbus, fortified with a few sound geographical principles, 
was, on the deck of his crazy caravel, more truly the monarch 
of Castile and Aragon, than Ferdinand and Isabella, enthroned 
beneath the golden vaults of the conquered Alhambra. And 
Robinson, with the simple training of a rural pastor in England, 
when he knelt on the shores of Delft Haven, and sent his little 
flock upon their Gospel errantry beyond the world of waters, 
exercised an influence over the destinies of the civilized world, 
which will last to the end of time. 

Sir, it is a solemn, a tender, and sacred duty, that of educa- 
tion. What, sir, feed a child's body, and let his soul hunger ! 
pamper his limbs and starve his faculties ! Plant the earth, 
cover a thousand hills with your droves of cattle, pursue the fish 
to tlieir hiding-places in the sea, and spread out your wheat- 
fields across the plain, in order to supply the wants of that body 
which will soon be as cold and as senseless as the poorest clod, 
and let the pure spiritual essence within you, with all its glorious 



120 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

capacities for improvement, languish and pine ! What ! build 
factories, turn in r.ivers upon the water-wheels, enchain the im- 
prisoned spirits of steam, to weave a garment for the body, and 
let the soul remain unadorned and naked ! What ! send out 
your vessels to the farthest ocean, and make battle with the 
monsters of the deep, in order to obtain the means of lighting 
up your dwellings and workshops, and prolonging the hours of 
labor for the meat that perisheth, and permit that vital spark 
which God has kindled, which He has intrusted to our care, to 
be fanned into a bright and heavenly flame, — permit it, I say, 
to languish and go out ! 

What considerate man can enter a school, and not reflect with 
awe, that it is a seminary where immortal minds are training for 
eternity ? What parent but is, at times, weighed down with the 
thought, that there must be laid the foundations of a building 
which will stand, when not merely temple and palace, but the 
perpetual hills and adamantine rocks on which they rest, have 
melted away ! — that a light may there be kindled, which will 
shine, not merely when every artificial beam is extinguished, but 
when the affrighted sun has fled away from the heavens ! I can 
add nothing, sir, to this consideration. I will only say, in con- 
clusion, Education, — when we feed that lamp, we perform the 
highest social duty ! If we quench it, I know not where (hu- 
manly speaking), for time or for eternity, — 

" I know not where is that Promethean heat 
That can its light relume ! " E. Everett. 



XC. 
WEBSTER'S GREATEST PARLIAMENTARY EFFORT. 

HHHE greatest parliamentary effort made by Mr. Webster, was 
■*■ his second speech on Foot's resolution, — the question at 
issue being nothing less than this : Is the Constitution of the 
United States a compact without a common umpire between con- 
federated sovereignties ; or is it a government of the people of 
the United States, sovereign within the sphere of its delegated 
powers, although reserving a great mass of undelegated rights to 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 121 

the separate State governments and the people ? With those 
who embrace the opinions which Mr. Webster combated in this 
speech, this is not the time nor the place to engage in an argu- 
ment; but those who believe that he maintained the true prin- 
ciples of the Constitution, will probably agree, that since that 
instrument was communicated to the Continental Congress, 
seventy-two years ago this day, by George Washington as Pres- 
ident of the Federal Convention, no greater service has been 
rendered to the country than in the delivery of this speech. 

Well do I recollect the occasion and the scene. It was truly 
what Wellington called the battle of Waterloo, a conflict of 
giants. I passed an hour and a half with Mr. Webster, at his 
request, the evening before this great effort ; and he went over 
to me, from a very concise brief, the main topics of the speech 
which he had prepared for the following day. So calm and un- 
impassioued was the memorandum, so entirely was he at ease 
himself, that I was tempted to think, absurdly enough, that he 
was not sufficiently aware of the magnitude of the occasion. But 
I soon perceived that his calmness was the repose of conscious 
power. He was not only at ease, but sportive and full of anec- 
dote ; and as he told the Senate playfully the next day, he slept 
soundly that night on the formidable assault of his gallant and 
accomplished adversary. So the great Conde slept on the eve 
of the battle of Rocroi ; so Alexander slept on the eve of the 
battle of Arbela ; and so they awoke to deeds of immortal fame. 

As I saw him in the evening, (if I may borrow an illustration 
from his favorite amusement,) he was as unconcerned and as free 
of spirit, as some here have often seen him, while floating in his 
fishing boat along a hazy shore, gently rocking on the tranquil 
tide, dropping his line here and there, with the varying fortune 
of the sport. The next morning he was like some mighty Ad- 
miral, dark and terrible, casting the long shadow of his frowning 
tiers far over the sea, that seemed to sink beneath him ; his broad 
pendant streaming at the main, the stars and the stripes at the 
fore, the mizzen, and the peak ; and bearing down like a tempest 
upon his antagonist, with all his canvas strained to the wind, and 
all his thunders roaring from his broadsides. 

E. Everett. 



122 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

xci. 
WHAT GOOD WILL THE MONUMENT DOf 

I" AM met with the great objection, What good will the Monu- 
-*- ment do? I beg leave, sir, to exercise my birthright as a 
Yankee, and answer this question by asking two or three more, 
to which, I believe, it will be quite as difficult to furnish a satis- 
factory reply. I am asked, What good will the monument do ? 
And I ask, What good does anything do ? What is good ? Does 
anything do any good ? The persons who suggest this objec- 
tion, of course think that there are some projects and undertak- 
ings that do good ; and I should therefore like to have the idea 
of good explained, and analyzed, and run out to its elements. 

When this is done, if I do not demonstrate, in about two 
minutes, that the monument does the same kind of good that 
anything else does, I shall consent that the huge blocks of 
granite already laid, should be reduced to gravel, and carted off 
to fill up the mill-pond ; for that, I suppose, is one of the good 
things. Does a railroad or canal do good ? Answer, yes. And 
how ? It facilitates intercourse, opens markets, and increases 
the wealth of the country. But what is this good for ? Why, 
individuals prosper and get rich. And what good does that do ? 
Is mere wealth, as an ultimate end, — gold and silver, without 
an inquiry as to their use, — are these a good ? Certainly not. 
I should insult this audience by attempting to prove that a rich 
man, as such, is neither better nor happier than a poor one. But 
as men grow rich, they live better. Is there any good in this, 
stopping here ? Is mere animal life — feeding, working, and 
sleeping like an ox — entitled to be called good ? Certainly not. 
But these improvements increase the population. And what 
good does that do? Where is the good in counting twelve 
millions, instead of six, of mere feeding, working, sleeping ani- 
mals ? There is, then, no good in the mere animal life, except 
that it is the physical basis of that higher moral existence, which 
resides in the soul, the heart, the mind, the conscience ; in good 
principles, good feelings, good actions (and the more disinter- 
ested, the more entitled to be called good) which flow from them. 
Now, sir, I say that generous and patriotic sentiments, senti- 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 123 

ments which prepare us to serve our country, to live for our 
country, to die for our country, — feelings like those which 
carried Prescott, and Warren, and Putnam to the battle-field, are 
good, — good, humanly speaking, of the highest order. It is 
good to have them, good to encourage them, good to honor them, 
good to commemorate them ; — and whatever tends to animate and 
strengthen such feelings does as much right down practical good 
as filling up low grounds and building railroads. This is my 
demonstration. E. Everett. 



xcn. 

EMANCIPATION OF THE CATHOLICS OF IRELAND. 

rflHIS paper, gentlemen, insists upon the necessity of emanci- 
pating the Catholics of Ireland, and that is charged as a 
part of the libel. If they had waited another year, if they had 
kept this prosecution impending for another year, how much 
would remain for a jury to decide upon, I should be at a loss to 
discover. It seems as if the progress of public information was 
eating away the ground of the prosecution. Since the com- 
mencement of the prosecution, this part of the libel has unluckily 
received the sanction of the legislature. In that interval our 
Catholic brethren have obtained that admission, which, it seems, 
it was a libel to propose. In what way to account for this, I am 
really at a loss. Have any alarms been occasioned by the eman- 
cipation of our Catholic brethren ? has the bigoted malignity x>f 
any individuals been crushed ? Or, has the stability of the gov- 
ernment, or has that of the country been weakened ? Or, are 
one million of subjects stronger than three millions? Do you 
think that the benefit they receive should be poisoned by the 
stings of vengeance ? If you think so, you must say to them, 
" You have demanded your emancipation and you have got it ; 
but we abhor your persons, we are outraged at your success ; 
and we will stigmatize, by a criminal prosecution, the adviser of 
that relief which you have obtained from the voice of your 
country." 

I ask you, gentlemen, do you think, as honest men, anxious 
for the public tranquillity, conscious that there are wounds not 
yet completely cicatrized, that you ought to speak this language 



124 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

at this time, to men who are too much disposed to think that in 
this very emancipation they have been saved from their own 
Parliament by the humanity of their Sovereign? Or, do you 
wish to prepare them for the revocation of these improvident 
concessions ? Do you think it wise or humane at this moment 
to insult them, by sticking up in a pillory the man who dared to 
stand forth as their advocate ? I put it to your oaths ; do you 
think that a blessing of that kind, that a victory obtained by 
justice over bigotry and oppression, should have a stigma cast 
upon it by an ignominious sentence upon men honest and bold 
enough to propose that measure ? to propose the redeeming of 
religion from the abuses of the Church — the reclaiming of three 
millions of men from bondage, and giving liberty to all who had 
a right to demand it — giving, I say, in the so much censured 
yords of this paper, " Universal Emancipation ! " 

I speak in the spirit of the British law, which makes liberty 
commensurate with and inseparable from British soil — which 
proclaims even to the stranger and the sojourner, the moment he 
sets his foot upon British earth, that the ground on which he 
treads is holy, and consecrated by the genius of Universal 
Emancipation. No matter in what language his doom may 
have been pronounced ; no matter what complexion incompatible 
with freedom an Indian or an African sun may have burned 
upon him ; no matter in what disastrous battle his liberty may 
have been cloven down ; no matter with what solemnities he 
may have been devoted upon the altar of slavery ; — the first 
moment he touches the sacred soil of Britain, the altar and the 
god sink together in the dust ; his soul walks abroad in her own 
majesty ; his body swells beyond the measure of his chains that 
burst from around him, and he stands redeemed, regenerated, 
and disenthralled, by the irresistible genius of Universal 

Emancipation. j. P. Qurran. 

♦ 

xcin. 

THE PUBLIC INFORMER. 

T>UT the learned gentleman is further pleased to say, that the 
-^ traverser has charged the government with the encourage- 
ment of informers. This, gentlemen, is another small fact that 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 125 

you are to deny at the hazard of your souls, and upon the solem- 
nity of your oaths. You are upon your oaths to say to the sis- 
ter country, that the government of Ireland uses no such abomi- 
nable instruments of destruction as informers. Let me ask you 
honestly, what do you feel, when in my hearing, when in the face 
of this audience, you are called upon to give a verdict that every 
nan of us, and every man of you, know by the testimony of 
your own eyes to be utterly and absolutely false ? I speak not 
now of the public proclamation of informers, with a promise of 
secresy and of extravagant reward ; I speak not of the fate of 
those horrid wretches who have been so often transferred from 
the table to the dock, and from the dock to the pillory ; I speak 
of what your own eyes have seen day after day, during the 
course of this commission, from the box where you are now T sit- 
ting — the number of horrid miscreants who avowed upon thei* 
oaths that they had come from the very seat of government — 
from the castle, where they had been worked upon by the fear 
of death and the hopes of compensation to give evidence against 
their fellows. I speak of the well-known fact that the mild and 
wholesome councils of this government are holden over these 
catacombs of living death, where the wretch that is buried a 
man, lies till his heart has time to fester and dissolve, and is 
then dug up a witness. 

Is this fancy, or is it fact ? Have you not seen him, after his 
resurrection from that tomb, after having been dug out of the 
region of death and corruption, make his appearance upon the 
table, the living image of life and of death, and the supreme 
arbiter of both ? Have you not marked when he entered, how 
the stormy wave of the multitude retired at his approach? 
Have you not marked how the human heart bowed to the su- 
premacy of his power, in the undissembled homage of deferen- 
tial horror? How his glance, like the lightning of heaven, 
seemed to rive the body of the accused, and mark it for the 
grave, while his voice warned the devoted wretch of woe and 
death — a death which no innocence can escape, no art elude, no 
force resist, no antidote prevent. There was an antidote — a 
jurors oath — but even that adamantine chain that bound the 
integrity of man to the throne of eternal justice, is solved and 
melted in the breath that issues from the informer's mouth. 



126 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

Conscience swings from her mooring, and the appalled and 
affrighted juror consults his own safety in the surrender of the 

victim. J. p. Curran. 

♦ 

XCIV. 
RED JACKETS SPEECH TO TEE MISSIONARY. 

T> ROTHER, listen to what we say. There was a time when 
-^~^ our forefathers owned this great island. Their seats ex- 
tended from the rising to the setting sun. The Great Spirit had 
made it for the use of Indians. He had created the buffalo, the 
deer, and other animals for food. He had made the bear and 
the beaver. Their skins served us for clothing. He had scat- 
tered them over the country, and taught us how to take them. 
He had caused the earth to produce corn for bread. All this He 
had done for his red children, because He loved them. If we 
had some disputes about our hunting-ground, they were generally 
settled without the shedding of much blood. But an evil day 
came upon us. Your forefathers came across the great water, 
and landed on this island. Their numbers were small. They 
found friends and not enemies. They told us they had fled from 
their own country for fear of wicked men, and asked for a small 
seat. We took pity on them ; granted their request ; and they 
sat down amongst us. We gave them corn and meat ; they gave 
us poison in return. 

The white people, brother, had now found our country. 
Tidings were carried back, and more came amongst us. Yet we 
did not fear them. We took them to be friends. They called 
us brothers. We believed them and gave them a larger seat. 
At length their numbers had greatly increased. They wanted 
more land ; they wanted our country. Our eyes were opened, 
and our minds became uneasy. Wars took, place. Indians were 
hired to fight against Indians, and many of our people were de- 
stroyed. They also brought strong liquor amongst us. It was 
strong and powerful and has slain thousands. 

Brother, our seats were once large, and yours were small. 
You have now become a great people, and we have scarcely a 
place left to spread our blankets. You have got our country, 
but are not satisfied ; you want to force your religion upon us. 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 127 

You say that you are sent to instruct us how to worship the 
Great Spirit agreeably to his mind ; and, if we do not take hold 
of the religion which you white people teach, we shall be un- 
happy hereafter. We are told that you have been preaching to 
the white people in this place. These people are our neigh- 
bors. We are acquainted with them. We will wait a little 
while, and see what effect your preaching has upon them. If 
we find it does them good, makes them honest, and less disposed 
to cheat Indiana, we will then consider again of what you have 
said. Brother, you have now heard our answer to your talk, 
and this is all we have to say at present. Cram. 



xcv. 
PARTITION OF POLAND. 

"TVTOW, sir, what was the conduct of your own allies to Poland ? 
Is there a single atrocity of the French, in Italy, in Switzer- 
landj in Egypt, if you please, more unprincipled and inhuman 
than that of Russia, Austria, and Prussia, in Poland ? What 
has there been in the conduct of the French to foreign powers ; 
what in the violation of solemn treaties ; what in the plunder, 
devastation, and dismemberment of unoffending countries ; what 
in the horrors and murders perpetrated upon the subdued .vic- 
tims of their rage in any district which they have overrun, worse 
than the conduct of those three great powers in the miserable, 
devoted, and trampled-on kingdom of Poland, and who have 
been, or are, our allies in this war for religion and social order, 
and the rights of nations ? " Oh ! but you regretted the partition 
of Poland ! " Yes, regretted ! You regretted the violence, and 
that is all you did. You united yourself with the actors ; you, 
in fact, by your acquiescence, confirmed the atrocity. But they 
are your allies ; and though they overran and divided Poland, 
there was nothing, perhaps, in the manner of doing it which 
stamped it with peculiar infamy and disgrace. The hero of 
Poland [Swarrow], perhaps, was merciful and mild ! He was 
" as much superior to Bonaparte in bravery, and in the discipline 
which he maintained, as he was superior in virtue and human- 
ity ! " He was animated by the purest principles of Christian- 



128 THE UNION SPEAKER. 



ity, and was restrained in his career by the benevolent pre- 
cepts which it inculcates ! Was he ? Let unfortunate Warsaw, 
and the miserable inhabitants of the suburb of Praga in particu- 
lar, tell ! What do we understand to have been the conduct of 
this magnanimous hero, with whom, it seems, Bonaparte is not 
to be compared ? He entered the suburb of Praga, the most 
populous suburb of Warsaw ; and there he let his soldiery 
loose on the miserable, unarmed, and unresisting people. Men, 
women, and children, nay, infants at the breast, were doomed to 
one indiscriminate massacre. Thousands of them were inhu- 
manly, wantonly butchered ! And for what ? Because they 
had dared to join in a wish to meliorate their own condition as a 
people, and to improve their Constitution, which had been con- 
fessed by their own Sovereign to be in want of amendment. 
And such is the hero upon whom the cause of religion and social 
order is to repose ! And such is the man whom we praise for 
his discipline and his virtue, and whom we hold out as our boast 
and our dependence ; while the conduct of Bonaparte unfits him 
to be even treated with as an enemy ? c. J. Epx. 






xcvi. 
NATIONAL DISGRACE. 

O IR, we may look in vain to the events of former times for 
^ a disgrace parallel to what we have suffered. Louis the 
Fourteenth, a monarch often named in our debates, and whose 
reign exhibits more than any other the extremes of prosperous 
and of adverse fortune, never, in the midst of his most humiliat- 
ing distresses, stooped to so despicable a sacrifice of all that can 
be dear to man. The war of the succession, unjustly begun by 
him, had reduced his power, had swallowed up his armies and his 
navies, had desolated his provinces, had drained his treasures, 
and deluged the earth with the blood of the best and most faithful 
his subjects. Exhausted by his various calamities, he offered 
his enemies at one time to relinquish all the objects for which 
he had begun the war. That proud monarch sued for peace, and 
was content to receive it from our moderation. But when it 
was made a condition of that peace, that he should turn his arms 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 129 

against his grandson, and compel him by force to relinquish the 
throne of Spain, — humbled, exhausted, conquered as he was, 
misfortune had not yet bowed his spirit to conditions so hard 
as these. 

We know the event. He persisted still in the war, until the 
folly and wickedness of Queen Anne's ministers enabled him to 
conclude the peace of Utrecht, on terms considerably less disad- 
vantageous even than those he had himself proposed. And shall 
we, sir, the pride of our age, the terror of Europe, submit to this 
humiliating sacrifice of oifr honor ? Have we suffered a defeat 
at Blenheim? Shall we, with our increasing prosperity, our 
widely diffused capital, our navy, the just subject of our common 
exultation, ever-flowing coffers, that enable us to give back to 
the people what, in the hour of calamity, we were compelled to 
take from them ; flushed with a recent triumph over Spain, and 
yet more than all, while our old rival and enemy was incapable 
of disturbing us, shall it be for us to yield to what France dis- 
dained in the hour of her sharpest distress, and exhibit ourselves 
to the world, the sole example in its annals of such an abject 
and pitiful degradation ? & j m p ox . 



xcvn. 
A POLITICAL PAUSE. 

TXTHERE then, sir, is this war, which is prolific of all these 
horrors, to be carried ? Where is it to stop ? Not till 
we have established the house of Bourbon ! Or, at least, not 
until we have had due " experience " of Bonaparte's intentions'! 
And all this without an intelligible motive. All this because 
you may gain a better peace a year or two hence ! So that we 
are called upon to go on merely as a speculation. We must 
keep Bonaparte for some time longer at war, as a state of proba- 
tion ! Gracious God, sir ! is war a state of probation ? Is peace 
a rash system ? Is it dangerous for nations to live in amity with 
each other ? Are your vigilance, your policy, your common 
powers of observation, to be extinguished by putting an end to 
the horrors of war ? Cannot this state of probation be as well 
undergone without adding to the catalogue of human sufferings ? 



130 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

" But we must pause ! " says the honorable gentleman. 
What ! must the bowels of Great Britain be torn out — her best 
blood be spilled — her treasures wasted — that you may make 
an experiment ? Put yourselves, oh ! that you would put your- 
selves on the field of battle, and learn to judge of the sort of 
horrors that you excite ! In former wars a man might, at least, 
have some feeling, some interest, that served to balance, in his 
mind, the impressions which a scene of carnage and of death 
must inflict. 

If a man had been present at the battle of Blenheim, for 
instance, and had inquired the motive of the battle, there was 
not a soldier engaged who could not have satisfied his curiosity, 
and even, perhaps, allayed his feelings. They were fighting, 
they knew, to repress the uncontrolled ambition of the Grand 
Monarch. 

But if a man were present now at the field of slaughter, and 
were to inquire for what they were fighting — " Fighting ! " 
would be the answer ; " they are not fighting ; they are pausing." 
" Why is that man expiring ? " Why is that other writhing 
with agony ? What means this implacable fury ? " The answer 
must be, " You are quite wrong, sir, you deceive yourself — 
they are not fighting, — do not disturb them — they are merely 
pausing ! This man is not expiring with agony — that man is 
not dead — he is only pausing ! Lord help you, sir ! they are 
not angry with one another ; they have now no cause of quarrel ; 
but their country thinks that there should be a pause. All that 
you see, sir, is nothing like fighting — there is no harm, nor cru- 
elty, nor bloodshed in it, whatever : it is nothing more than a 
political pause ! It is merely to try an experiment — to see 
whether Bonaparte will not behave himself better than hereto- 
fore ; and in the mean time we have agreed to pause in pure 
friendship ! " 

And is this the way, sir, that you are to show yourselves the 
advocates of order ? You take up a system calculated to unciv- 
ilize the world — to destroy ordeF, — to trample on religion, — 
to stifle in the heart, not merely the generosity of a noble senti- , 
ment, but the affections of social nature ; and in the prosecution 
of this system, you spread terror and devastation all around you. 

C. J. Fox. 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 131 

XCVIII. 
WASHINGTON'S SWORD AND FRANKLINS STAFF. 

rriHE Sword of Washington! The Staff of Franklin! O, sir, 
what associations are linked in adamant with these names ! 
Washington, whose sword was never drawn but in the cause of 
his country, and never sheathed when wielded in his country's 
cause ! Franklin, the philosopher of the thunder-bolt, the print- 
ing-press, and the ploughshare ! What names are these in the 
scanty catalogue of the benefactors of human kind ! Washing- 
ton and Franklin ! What other two men whose lives belong 
to the eighteenth century of Christendom, have left a deeper im- 
pression of themselves upon the age in which they lived, and 
upon all after-time ? Washington, the warrior and the legis- 
lator ! In war, contending, by the wager of battle, for the Inde- 
pendence of his country, and for the freedom of the human race, 
— ever manifesting, amidst its horrors, by precept and by exam- 
ple, his reverence for the laws of peace, and for the tenderest 
sympathies of humanity ; in peace, soothing the ferocious spirit 
of discord, among his own ccfuntrymen, into harmony and union, 
and giving to that very sword, now presented to his country, a 
charm more potent than that attributed, in ancient times, to the 
lyre of Orpheus. 

Franklin ! — The mechanic of his own fortune'; teaching, in 
early youth, under the shackles of indigence, the way to wealth, 
and, in the shade of obscurity, the path to greatness; in the 
maturity of manhood, disarming the thunder of its terrors, the 
lightning of its fatal blast ; and wresting from the tyrant's hand the 
still more afflictive sceptre of oppression : while descending the 
vale of years, traversing the Atlantic Ocean, braving, in the dead 
of winter, the battle and the breeze, bearing in his hand the 
Charter of Independence, which he had contributed to form, and 
tendering, from the self-created nation to the mightiest monarchs 
of Europe, the olive-branch of peace, the mercurial wand of com- 
merce, and the amulet of protection and safety to the man of 
peace, on the pathless ocean, from the inexorable cruelty and 
merciless rapacity of war. 

And, finally, in the last stage of life, with fourscore winters 
upon his head, under the torture of an incurable disease, return- 



132 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

ing to his native land, closing his days as the chief magistrate of 
his adopted commonwealth, after contributing by his counsels 
under the Presidency of Washington, and recording his name 
under the sanction of devout prayer invoked by him to God, — 
to that Constitution under the authority of which we are assem- 
bled, as the Representatives of the North American People, to 
receive, in the name of them and for them, these venerable relics 
of the wise, the valiant, and the good founders of our great con- 
federated Republic, — these sacred symbols of our golden age. 
May they be deposited among the archives of our Government ! 
And may every American, who shall hereafter behold them, 
ejaculate a mingled offering of praise to that Supreme Ruler 
of the Universe, by whose tender mercies our Union has been 
hitherto preserved, through all the vicissitudes and revolutions 
of this turbulent world ; and of prayer for the continuance of 
these blessings, by the dispensations of Providence to our beloved 

country, from age to age, till time shall be no more ! 

J. 0, Adams. 



XCIX. 
TEE RIGHT OF PETITION BY WOMEN. 

rpiHE gentleman says that women have no right to petition 
on political subjects ; that it is discreditable, not only to their 
section of the country, but also to the national character ; that 
these females could have a sufficient field for the exercise of their 
influence in the discharge of their duties to their fathers, their 
husbands, or their children — cheering the domestic circle, and 
shedding over it the mild radiance of the social virtues, instead 
of rushing into the fierce struggles of political life. I admit, sir, 
that it is their duty to attend to these things. I subscribe fully 
to the elegant compliment, passed by him upon those members 
of the female sex who devote their time to these duties. But I 
say that the correct principle is, that women are not only justi- 
fied, but exhibit the most exalted virtue, when they do depart 
from the domestic circle, and enter on the concerns of their 
country, of humanity, and of their God. The mere departure of 
woman from the duties of the domestic circle, far from being a 
reproach to her, is a virtue of the highest order, when it is done 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 133 

from purity of motive, by appropriate means, and towards a 
virtuous purpose. That is the principle I maintain, and which 
the gentleman has to refute, if he applies the position he has 
taken to the mothers, the sisters, and the daughters of the men 
of my district who voted to send me here. The motive, the 
means, and the purpose of their petition will bear his scrutiny. 

Why, sir, what does the gentleman understand by " political 
subjects ? " Everything in which this House has an agency — 
everything which relates to peace and war, or to any of the 
great interests of society. Are women to have no opinions or 
actions on subjects relating to the general welfare ? Where did 
the gentleman get this principle ? Did he find it in sacred his- 
tory — in the language of Miriam the Prophetess, in one of the 
noblest and most sublime songs of triumph that ever met the 
human eye or ear ? Did the gentleman never hear of the deed 
of Jael, who slew the dreaded enemy of her country ? Has he 
forgotten Esther, who, by her petition, saved her people and 
her country ? Sir, I might go through the whole sacred history, 
and find innumerable examples of women, who not only took an 
active part in the politics of their times, but who are held up 
with honor to posterity for doing so. 

To go from sacred history to profane, does the gentleman there 
find it " discreditable " for women to take any interest or any 
part in political 'affairs ? Has he forgotten the Spartan mother, 
who said to her son, when going out to battle, " My son, come 
back to me with thy shield, or upon thy shield ? " Does he not 
remember Cornelia, the mother of the Gracchi, who declared 
that her children were her jewels ? And why ? Because they 
were the champions of freedom. Has he not read of Arria, who, 
under imperial despotism, when her husband was condemned to 
die by a tyrant, plunged the sword into her own bosom, and, 
handing it to her husband, said, " Take it, Paetus, it does not 
hurt," and expired ? 

To come to a later period, — what names are more illustrious 
than that of Elizabeth, the great British queen, and that of Isa- 
bella of Castile, the patroness of Columbus, the virtual discoverer 
of this hemisphere, for without her that discovery would not have 
been made ? Did they bring " discredit " on their sex by ming- 
ling in politics ? And what were the women of the United States 



134 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

in the struggle of the Revolution ? Were they devoted excite 
sively to the duties and enjoyments of the fireside ? When the 
soldiers were destitute of clothing, or sick, or in prison, from 
whence did relief come ? From the hearts where patriotism 
erects her favorite shrine, and from the hand which is seldom 
withdrawn when the soldier is in need. The voice of our history 
speaks trumpet-tongued of the daring and intrepid spirit of 
patriotism burning in the bosoms of the ladies of that day. 
" Politics," sir, " rushing into the vortex of politics ! " They 
gloried in being called rebel ladies, refusing to attend balls and 
entertainments, but crowding to the hospitals and prison-ships ! 
And, sir, is that spirit to be charged here, in this hall where we 
are sitting, as being " discreditable " to our country's name ? 
So far from regarding such conduct as a national reproach, I 
approve of it, and glory in it. J. Q. Adams. 



c. 

VALUE OF POPULARITY. 

Il/TY Lords, I come now to speak upon what, indeed, I would 
have gladly avoided, had I not been particularly pointed 
at for the part I have taken in this bill. It has been said by a 
noble lord on my left hand, that /, likewise, am running the 
race of popularity. If the noble lord means by popularity, that 
applause bestowed by after-ages on good and virtuous actions? 
I have long been struggling in that race ; to what purpose, all- 
trying time can alone determine : but, t if the noble lord means 
that mushroom popularity which is raised without merit, and 
lost without crime, he is much mistaken in his opinion. 

I defy the noble lord to point out a single action of my life, in 
which the popularity of the times ever had the smallest influence 
on my determinations. I have a more permanent and steady 
rule for my conduct, — the dictates of my own breast. Those 
that have foregone that pleasing adviser, "and given up their 
mind to be the slave of every popular impulse, I sincerely pity : 
I pity them still more, if their vanity leads them to mistake the 
shouts of the mob for the trumpet of fame. Experience might 
inform them, that many who have been saluted with the huzzas 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 135 

of a crowd one day, have received its execrations the next ; and 
many who by the popularity of their times, have been held 
up as spotless patriots, have, nevertheless, appeared upon the 
historian's page, — when truth has triumphed over delusion, — 
the assassins of liberty. 

True liberty, in my opinion, can only exist when justice is 
equally administered to all, — to the king and to the beggar. 
Where is the justice, then, or where is the law, that protects a 
member of Parliament more than any other man from the punish- 
ment due to his crimes ? The laws of this country allow no 
place, nor employment to be a sanctuary for crimes ; and where 
I have the honor to sit as judge, neither royal favor, nor popular 
applause shall ever protect the guilty. Lord Mansfield. 



ci. 

SCORN TO BE SLAVES. 

rj^HE voice of your father's blood cries to you from the 
-*- ground, " My sons, scorn to be slaves ! In vain we met 
the frowns of tyrants ; in vain we crossed the boisterous ocean, 
found a new world, and prepared it for the happy residence of 
liberty ; in vain we toiled ; in vain we fought ; we bled in vain, 
if you, our offspring, want valor to repel the assaults of her in- 
vaders ! " Stain not the glory of your worthy ancestors ; but, 
like them, resolve never to part with your birthright. Be wise 
in your deliberations, and determined in your exertions for the 
preservation of your liberty. 

Follow not the dictates of passion, but enlist yourselves under 
the sacred banner of reason ; use every method in your power 
to secure your rights ; at least, prevent the curses of posterity 
from being heaped upon your memories. If you, with united 
zeal and fortitude, oppose the torrent of oppression ; if you feel 
the true fire of patriotism burning in your breasts ; if you, from 
your souls, despise the most gaudy dress which slavery can wear ; 
if you really prefer the lonely cottage, while blessed with liberty, 
to gilded palaces, surrounded with the ensigns of slavery, you 
may have the fullest assurance that tyranny, with her whole 



136 THE UNION SPEAKER 

accursed train, will hide her hideous head in confusion, shame, 
and despair. 

If you perform your part, you must have the strongest confi- 
dence, that the same Almighty Being, who protected your pious 
and venerable forefathers, who enabled them to turh a barren 
wilderness into a fruitful field, who so often made bare His arm 
for their salvation, will still be mindful of their offspring. 

May that Almighty Being graciously preside in all our coun- 
cils. May He direct us to such measures as He himself shall 
approve, and be pleased to bless. May we be ever favored of 
God. May our land be a land of liberty, the seat of virtue, the 
asylum of the oppressed, "a. name and a praise in the whole 
earth," until the last shock of time shall bury the empires of the 
world in undistinguished ruin. j. Warren. 



en. 
LOSS OF THE ARCTIC. 

T T was autumn. Hundreds had wended their way from pil- 
grimages ; — from Rome and its treasures of dead art, and 
its glory of living nature ; from the sides of the Switzer's moun- 
tains, and from the capitals of various nations, — all of them 
saying in their hearts, we will wait for the September gales to 
have done with their equinoctial fury, and then we will embark ; 
we will slide across the appeased ocean, and in the gorgeous 
month of October, we will greet our longed-for native land, and 
our heart-loved homes. 

And so the throng streamed along from Berlin, from Paris, 
from the Orient, converging upon London, still hastening toward 
the welcome ship, and narrowing every day the circle of en- 
gagements and preparations. They crowded aboard. Never had 
the Arctic borne such a host of passengers, nor passengers so 
nearly related to so many of us. The jiour was come. The 
signal-ball fell at Greenwich. It was noon also at Liverpool. 
The anchors were weighed ; the great hull swayed to the cur- 
rent ; the national colors streamed abroad, as if themselves 
instinct with life and national sympathy. The bell strikes ; the 
wheels revolve ; the signal-gun beats its echoes in upon every 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 137 

structure along the shore, and the Arctic glides joyfully forth 
from the Mersey, and turns her prow to the winding channel, 
and begins her homeward run. The pilot stood at the wheel, 
and men saw him. Death sat upon the prow, and no eye beheld 
him. ^Yhoever stood at the wheel in all the voyage, Death was 
the pilot that steered the craft, and none knew it. He neither 
revealed his presence nor whispered his errand. 

And so hope was effulgent, and lithe gayety disported itself, 
and joy was with every guest. Amid all the inconveniences of 
the voyage, there was still that which hushed every murmur, — 
" Home is not far away." And every morning it was still one 
night nearer home ! Eight days had passed. They beheld that 
distant bank of mist that forever haunts the vast shallows of 
Newfoundland. Boldly they made it ; and plunging in, its pliant 
wreaths wrapped them about. They shall never emerge. The 
last sunlight has flashed from that deck. The last voyage is 
done to ship and passengers. At noon there came noiselessly 
stealing from the north that fated instrument of destruction. In 
that mysterious shroud, that vast atmosphere of mist, both steam- 
ers were holding their way with rushing prow and roaring 
wheels, but invisible. 

At a league's distance, unconscious, and at nearer approach, 
unwarned ; within hail, and bearing right towards each other, 
unseen, unfelt, till in a moment more, emerging from the gray 
mists, the ill-omened Vesta dealt her deadly stroke to the Arctic. 
The death-blow was scarcely felt along the mighty hull. She 
neither reeled nor shivered. Neither commander nor officers 
deemed that they had suffered harm. Prompt upon humanity, 
the brave Luce (let his name be ever spoken with admiration 
and respect) ordered away his boat with the first officer to 
inquire if the stranger had suffered harm. As Gourley went 
over the ship's side, oh, that some good angel had called to 
the brave commander in the words of Paul on a like occasion, 
* Except these abide in the ship, ye cannot be saved." 

They departed, and with them the hope of the ship, for now 
the waters gaining upon the hold, and rising upon the fires, 
revealed the mortal blow. Oh, had now that stern, brave mate, 
Gourley, been on deck, whom the sailors were wont to mind — 
had he stood to execute sufficiently the commander's will — we 



138 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

may believe that we should not have had to blush for the cow- 
ardice and recreancy of the crew, nor weep for the untimely 
dead. But, apparently, each subordinate officer lost all presence 
of mind, then courage, and so honor. In a wild scramble, that 
ignoble mob of firemen, engineers, waiters, and crew, rushed for 
the boats, and abandoned the helpless women, children, and men 
to the mercy of the deep ! Four hours there were from the 
catastrophe of collision to the catastrophe of sinking ! 

Oh, what a burial was here ! Not as when one is borne from 
his home, among weeping throngs, and gently carried to the green 
fields, and laid peacefully beneath the turf and the flowers. No 
priest stood to pronounce a burial-service. It was an ocean 
grave. The mists alone shrouded the burial-place. No spade 
prepared the grave, nor sexton filled up the hollowed earth. 
Down, down they sank, and the quick returning waters smoothed 
out every ripple, and left the sea as if it had not been. 

H. W. Beecher. 



cm. 

THE GLORY AND GRANDEUR OF PEACE. 

TTl^HATEVER may be the judgment of poets, of moralists, 
of satirists, or even of soldiers, it is certain that the glory 
of arms still exercises no mean influence over the minds of men. 
The art of war, which has been happily termed by a French 
divine, the baleful art by which men learn to exterminate one 
another, is yet held, even among Christians, to be an honorable 
pursuit ; and the animal courage, which it stimulates and de- 
velops, is prized as a transcendent virtue. It will be for another 
age, and a higher civilization, to appreciate the more exalted 
character of the art of benevolence, — the art of extending hap- 
piness and all good influences, by word or deed, to the largest 
number of mankind, — which, in blessed contrast with the misery, 
the degradation, the wickedness of war, shall shine resplendent, 
the true grandeur of peace. All then will be willing to join 
with the early poet in saying, at least, 

" Though louder fame attend the martial rage, 
'T is greater glory to reform the age." 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 139 

Then shall the soul thrill with a nobler heroism than that of 
battle. Peaceful industry, with untold multitudes of cheerful 
and beneficent laborers, shall be its gladsome token. Literature, 
full of sympathy and comfort for the heart of man, shall appear 
in garments of purer glory than she has yet assumed. Science 
shall extend the bounds of knowledge and power, adding unim- 
aginable strength to the hands of man, opening innumerable 
resources in the earth, and revealing new secrets and harmonies 
in the skies. Art, elevated and refined, shall lavish fresh streams 
of beauty and grace. Charity, in streams of milk and honey, 
shall diffuse itself among all the habitations of the world. 

Does any one ask for the signs of this approaching era ? The 
increasing beneficence and intelligence of our own day, the broad- 
spread sympathy with human suffering, the widening thoughts 
of men, the longings of the heart for a higher condition on earth, 
the unfulfilled promises of Christian progress, are the auspicious 
auguries of this happy future. Aft early voyagers over untried 
realms of waste, we have already observed the signs of land. 
The green twig and fresh red berry have floated by our bark ; 
the odors of the shore fan our faces ; nay, we may seem to descry 
the distant gleam of light, and hear from the more earnest ob- 
servers, as Columbus heard, afte'r midnight, from the mast-head 
of the Pinta, the joyful cry of Land ! Land ! and lo ! a new 
world broke upon his early morning gaze. c. Sumner. 



civ. 
ANCIENT AND MODERN PRODUCTIONS. 

rriHE classics possess a peculiar charm, from the circumstance 
that they have been the models,. I might almost say the 
masters, of composition and thought, in all ages. In the contem- 
plation of these august teachers of mankind, we are filled with 
conflicting emotions. They are the early voice of the world, bet- 
ter remembered and more cherished still than all the interme- 
diate words that have been uttered, as the lessons of childhood 
still haunt us when the impressions of later years have been 
effaced from the mind. But they show with most unwelcome 



HO THE UNION SPEAKER. 

frequency the tokens of the world's childhood, before passion had 
yielded to the sway of reason and the affections. They want the 
highest charm of purity, of righteousness, of elevated sentiments, 
of love to God and man. It is not in the frigid philosophy of 
the porch and academy that we are to seek these ; not in the 
marvellous teachings of Socrates, as they come mended by the 
mellifluous words of Plato ; not in the resounding line of Homer, 
on whose inspiring tale of blood Alexander pillowed his head ; 
not in the animated strain of Pindar, where virtue is pictured in 
the successful strife of an athlete at the Isthmian games ; not in 
the torrent of Demosthenes, dark with self-love and the spirit 
of vengeance ; not in the fitful philosophy and intemperate elo- 
quence of Tully ; not in the genial libertinism of Horace, or the 
stately atheism of Lucretius. No! these must not be our mas- 
ters ; in none of these are we to seek the way of life. For 
eighteen hundred years the spirit of these writers has been en- 
gaged in weaponless contest \^th the Sermon on the Mount, and 
those two sublime commandments on which hang all the law and 
the prophets. The strife is still pending. Heathenism, which 
has possessed itself of such siren forms, is not yet exorcised. It 
still tempts the young, controls the affairs of active life, and 
haunts the meditations of age. 

Our own productions, though they may yield to those of the 
ancients in the arrangement of ideas, in method, in beauty of 
form, and in freshness of illustration, are immeasurably superior 
in the truth, delicacy, and elevation of their sentiments, — above 
all, in the benign recognition of that great Christian revelation, 
the brotherhood of man. How vain are eloquence and poetry, 
compared with this heaven-descended truth ! Put in one scale 
that simple utterance, and in the other the lore of antiquity, with 
its accumulating glosses and commentaries, and the last will be 
light and trivial in the balance. Greek poetry has been likened 
to the song of the nightingale as she sits in the rich, symmetrical 
crown of the palm-tree, trilling her thick-warbled notes ; but 
even this is less sweet and tender than the music of the human 
heart. C. Sumner. 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 141 

cv. 
THE ABOLITION OF THE SLAVE TRADE. 

VT^HY ought the slave trade to be abolished? Because it is 
incurable injustice ! How much stronger, then, is the 
argument for immediate than gradual abolition ! By allowing 
it to continue even for one hour, do not my right honorable 
friends weaken — do they not desert their own- arguments of its 
injustice ? If on the ground of injustice it ought to be abolished 
at last, why ought it not now ? Why is injustice to be suffered 
to remain for a single hour ? 

I know of no evil that ever has existed, nor can imagine any 
evil to exist, worse than the tearing of eighty thousand per- 
sons annually from their native land, by a combination of the 
most civilized nations in the most enlightened quarter of the 
globe ; but more especially by that nation which calls herself the 
most free and the most happy of them al^ Even if these miser- 
able beings were proved guilty of every crime before you take 
them off, of which however not a single proof is adduced, ought 
we to take upon ourselves the office of executioners? And 
even if we condescend so far, still can w r e be justified in taking 
them, unless we have clear proof that they are criminals ? 

I have shown how great is the enormity of this evil, even on 
the supposition that we take only convicts and prisoners of war. 
But take the subject in the other way ; take it on the grounds 
stated by the right honorable gentleman over the way, and how 
does it stand ? Think of eighty thousand persons carried 
away out o£ their country, by we know not what means, for 
crimes imputed ; for light or inconsiderable faults ; for debt, per- 
haps ; for the crime of witchcraft ; or a thousand other weak and 
scandalous pretexts, besides all the fraud and kidnapping, the 
villanies and perfidy, by which the slave trade is supplied. Re- 
flect on these eighty thousand persons thus annually taken off! 
There is something in the horror of it, that surpasses all the 
bounds of imagination. Admitting that there exists in Africa 
something like to courts of justice ; yet what an office of humili- 
ation and meanness is it in us, to take upon ourselves to carry 
into execution the partial, the cruel, iniquitous sentences of such 



142 THE UNION SPEAKER 

courts, as if we also were strangers to all religion, and to the 
first principles of justice. 

But that country, it is said, has been in some degree civilized, 
and civilized by us. It is said they have gained some knowledge 
of the principles of justice. What, sir, have they gained the 
principles of justice from us ? Is their civilization brought about 
by us ! Yes, we give them enough of our intercourse to convey 
to them the means, and to initiate them in the study of mutual 
destruction. We give them just enough of the forms of justice 
to enable them to add the pretext of legal trials to their* other 
modes of perpetuating the most atrocious iniquity. We give 
them just enough of European improvements, to enable them the 
more effectually to turn Africa into a ravaged wilderness. But 
I refrain from attempting to enumerate half the dreadful con- 
sequences of this system. Do you think nothing of the ruin and 
the miseries in which so many other individuals, still remaining 
in Africa, are involved in consequence of carrying off so many 
myriads of people? Do you think nothing of their families 
which are left behind ; of the connections which are broken ; of 
the friendships, attachments, and relationships which are burst 
asunder ? Do you think nothing of the miseries in consequence, 
that are felt from generation to generation ; of the privation of 
that happiness which might be communicated to them by the 
introduction of civilization, and of mental and moral improve- 
ment ? A happiness which you withhold from them so long as 
you permit the slave trade to continue. 

How shall w T e hope to obtain, if it be possible, forgiveness from 
Heaven for these enormous evils we have committed, if we refuse 
to make use of those means which the mercy of Providence hath 
still reserved for us, for wiping away the guilt and shame with 
which we are now covered. If we refuse even this degree of 
compensation; if, knowing the miseries we have caused, we 
refuse even now to put a stop to them, how greatly aggravated 
will be the guilt of Great Britain ! and what a blot will these 
transactions forever be in the history of this country ! Shall we, 
then, delay to repair these injuries, and to begin rendering jus- 
tice to Africa ? Shall we not count the days and hours that are 
suffered to intervene, and to delay the accomplishment of such 
a work ? Reflect what an immense object is before you ; what 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 143 

an object for a nation to have in view, and to have a prospect, 
under the favor of Providence, of being now permitted to attain ! 
I think the House will agree with me in cherishing the ardent 
wish to enter without delay upon the measures necessary for these 
great ends ; and I am sure that the immediate abolition of the 
slave trade is the first, the principal, the most indispensable act 
of policy, of duty, and of justice, that the Legislature of this 
country has to take, if it is indeed their wish to secure those im- 
portant objects to which I have alluded, and which we are bound 
to pursue by the most solemn obligations. w. Pitt. 



cvi. 

"LET THERE BE LIGHT." 

T7R0M her earliest colonial history, the policy of Massa- 
-*- chusetts has been to develop the minds of all her people, 
and to imbue them with the principles of duty. To do this 
work most effectually, she has begun with the young. If she 
would continue to mount higher and higher towards the summit 
of prosperity, she must continue the means by which her present 
elevation has been gained. In doing this, she will not only exer- 
cise the noblest prerogative of government, but will cooperate 
with the Almighty in one of his sublimest works. 

The Greek rhetorician, Longinus, quotes from the Mosaic 
account of the creation what he calls the sublimest passage ever 
uttered : " God said, ' Let there be light,' and there was light." 
From the centre of black immensity effulgence burst forth. 
Above, beneath, on every side, its radiance streamed out, silent, 
yet making each spot in the vast concave brighter than the line 
which the lightning pencils upon the midnight cloud. Darkness 
fled as the swift beams spread onward and outward, in an unend- 
ing circumfusion of splendor. Onward and outward still they 
move to this day, glorifying, through wider and wider regions of 
space, the infinite Author from whose power and beneficence 
they sprang. But not only in the beginning, when God created 
the heavens and the earth, did he say, " Let there be light.'' 
Whenever a human soul is born into the world, its Creator stands 
over it, and again pronounces the same sublime words, " Let 
there be light." 



144 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

Magnificent, indeed, was the material creation, when, suddenly 
blazing forth in mid space, the new-born sun dispelled the dark- 
ness of the ancient night. But infinitely more magnificent is it 
when the human soul rays forth its subtler and swifter beams ; 
when the light of the senses irradiates all outward things, reveal- 
ing the beauty of their colors, and the exquisite symmetry of 
their proportions and forms ; when the light of reason penetrates 
to their invisible properties and laws, and displays all those hid- 
den relations that make up all the sciences ; when the light of 
conscience illuminates the moral world, separating truth from error, 
and virtue from vice. The light of the newly -kindled sun, indeed, 
was glorious. It struck upon all the planets, and waked into ex- 
istence their myriad capacities of life and joy. As it rebounded 
from them, and showed their vast orbs all wheeling, circle beyond 
circle, in their stupendous courses, the sons of God shouted for joy. 
That light sped onward, beyond Sirius, beyond the pole-star, be- 
yond Orion and the Pleiades, and is still spreading onward into the 
abysses of space. But the light of the human soul flies swifter 
than the light of the sun, and outshines its meridian blaze. It 
can embrace not only the sun of our system, but all suns and 
galaxies of suns ; aye ! the soul is capable of knowing and of . 
enjoying Him who created the suns themselves ; and when these 
starry lustres that now glorify the firmament shall wax dim, and 
fade away like a wasted taper, the light of the soul shall still 
remain ; nor time, nor cloud, nor any power but its own perver- 
sity, shall ever quench its brightness. Again I would say, that 
whenever a human soul is born into the world, God stands over 
it, and pronounces the same sublime fiat, " Let there be light ! " 
And may the time soon come, when "all human governments shall 
cooperate with the divine government in carrying this benedic- 
tion and baptism into fulfilment. H. Jfann. 



cvn. 
TRUE ELOQUENCE. 



"YTTHEN public bodies are to be addressed on momentous 

occasions, when great interests are at stake, and strong 

passions excited, nothing is valuable in speech farther than as 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 145 

it is connected with high intellectual and moral endowments. 
Clearness, force, and earnestness are the qualities which produce 
conviction. True eloquence, indeed, does not consist in speech. 
It cannot be brought from far. Labor and learning may toil for 
it, but they will toil in vain. Words and phrases may be mar- 
shalled in every way, but they cannot compass it. It must exist 
in the man, in the subject, and in the occasion. Affected passion, 
intense expression, the pomp of declamation, all may aspire to 
it ; they cannot reach it. It comes, if it come at all, like the out- 
breaking of a fountain from the earth, or the bursting forth of 
volcanic fires, with spontaneous, original, native force. The 
graces taught in the schools, the costly ornaments and studied 
contrivances of speech, shock and disgust men, when their own 
lives, and the fate of their wiv«s, their children, and their coun- 
try, hang on the decision of the hour. Then words have lost 
their power, rhetoric is vain, and all elaborate oratory contempti- 
ble. Even genius itself then feels rebuked and subdued, as in the 
presence of higher qualities. Then patriotism is eloquent ; then 
self-devotion is eloquent. The. clear conception, outrunning the 
deductions of logic, the high purpose, the firm resolve, the daunt- 
less spirit, speaking on the tongue, beaming from the eye, inform- 
ing every feature, and urging the whole man onward, right 
onward to his object — this, this is eloquence ; or rather it is 
something greater and higher than all eloquence, it is action, 
noble, sublime, godlike action. 2X Webster. 



cvm. 
SOUTH CAROLINA AND MASSACHUSETTS. 

n^HE eulogium pronounced by the honorable gentleman on 
the character of the State of South Carolina, for her Revo- 
utionary and other merits, meets my hearty concurrence. I shall 
not acknowledge that the honorable member goes before me in 
regard for whatever of distinguished talent, or distinguished char- 
acter, South Carolina has produced. I claim part of the honor, 
I partake in the pride, of her great names. I claim them for 
countrymen, one and all, — the Laurenses, the Rutledges, the 
Pinckneys, the Sumters, the Marions, — Americans all, whose 

10 



146 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

fame is no more to be hemmed in by State lines, than their 
talents and patriotism were capable of being circumscribed within 
the same narrow limits. 

In their day and generation, they served and honored the coun- 
try, and the whole country ; and their renown is of the treasures 
of the whole country. Him whose honored name the gentle- 
man himself bears, — does he esteem me less capable of gratitude 
for his patriotism, or sympathy for his sufferings, than if his eyes 
had first opened upon the light of Massachusetts, instead of South 
Carolina ? Sir, does he suppose it in his power to exhibit a Caro- 
lina name so bright as to produce envy in my bosom ? No, sir, 
increased gratification and delight, rather. I thank God, that, if I 
am gifted with little of the spirit which is able to raise mortals to 
the skies, I have yet none, as I ffrust, of that other spirit, which 
would drag angels down. 

When I shall be found, sir, in my place here in the Senate, or 
elsewhere, to sneer at public merit, because it happens to spring 
up beyond the little limits of my own State or neighborhood ; 
when I refuse, for any such cause, or for any cause, the homage 
due to American talent, to elevated patriotism, to sincere devo- 
tion to liberty and the country ; or, if I see an uncommon endow- 
ment of Heaven, — if I see extraordinary capacity and virtue, in 
any son of the South, and if, moved by local prejudice or gan- 
grened by State jealousy, I get up here to abate the tithe of a 
hair from his just character and just fame, may my tongue cleave 
to the roof my mouth ! 

Sir, let me recur to pleasing recollections, let me indulge in 
refreshing remembrance of the past ; let me remind you that, in 
early times, no States cherished greater harmony, both of princi- 
ple and feeling, than Massachusetts and South Carolina. Would 
to God that harmony might again return ! Shoulder to shoulder 
they went through the Revolution, hand in hand they stood round 
the administration of Washington, and felt his own great arm 
lean on them for support. Unkind feeling, if it exist, alienation 
and distrust are the growth, unnatural to such soils, of false prin- 
ciples since sown. They are weeds, the seeds of which that 
same great arm never scattered. 

Mr. President, I shall enter on no encomium upon Massa- 
chusetts; she needs none. There she is. Behold her, and judge 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 147 

for yourselves. There is her history ; the world knows it by 
heart. The past, at least, is secure. There is Boston, and Con- 
cord, and Lexington, and Bunker Hill ; and there they will 
remain forever. The bones of her sons, fallen in the great strug- 
gle for Independence, now lie mingled with the soil of every 
State, from New England to Georgia ; and there they will lie 
forever. 

And, sir, where American Liberty raised its first voice, and 
where its youth was nurtured and sustained, there it still lives, 
in the strength of its manhood, and full of its original spirit. If 
discord and disunion shall wound it ; if party strife and blind 
ambition shall hawk at and tear it ; if folly and madness, if 
uneasiness under salutary and necessary restraint, shall succeed 
in separating it from that Union, by which alone its existence is 
made sure, it will stand, in the end, by the side of that cradle in 
which its infancy was rocked ; it will stretch forth its arm with 
whatever of vigor it may still retain over the friends who gather 
round it ; and it will fall at last, if fall it must, amid the proudest 
monuments of its own glory, and on the very spot of its origin. 

. D. Webster. 



CIX. 
AFRICAN SLAVE TRADE. 

f DEEM it my duty on this occasion to suggest, that the land 
is not yet wholly free from the contamination of a traffic, at 
which every feeling of humanity must forever revolt, — I mean 
the African slave trade. Neither public sentiment, nor the law, 
has hitherto been able entirely to put an end to this odious and 
abominable trade. At the moment when God in his mercy has 
blessed the Christian world with a universal peace, there is 
reason to fear, that, to the disgrace of the Christian name and 
character, new efforts are making for the extension of this trade 
by subjects and citizens of Christian States, in whose hearts there 
dwell no sentiments of humanity or of justice, and over whom 
neither the fear of God nor the fear of man exercises a control. 
In the sight of our law, the African slave trader is a pirate and 
a felon ; and in the sight of Heaven, an offender far beyond the 



148 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

ordinary depth of human guilt. There is no brighter page of our 
history, than that which records the measures which have been 
adopted by the government at an early day, and at different 
times since, for the suppression of this traffic ; and I would call 
on all the true sons of New England to cooperate with the laws 
of man, and the justice of Heaven. If there be, within the 
extent of our knowledge or influence, any participation in this 
traffic, let us pledge ourselves here, upon the rock of Plymouth, 
to extirpate and destroy it. It is not fit that the land of the 
Pilgrims should bear the shame longer. I hear the sound of the 
hammer, I see the smoke of the furnaces where manacles and 
fetters are still forged for human limbs. I see the visages of 
those who by stealth and at midnight labor in this w T ork of hell, 
foul and dark, as may become the artificers of such instruments 
of misery and torture. Let that spot be purified, or let it cease 
to be of New England. Let it be purified, or let it be set aside 
from the Christian world ; let it be put out of the circle of human 
sympathies and human regards, and let civilized man henceforth 
have no communion with it. 

I would invoke those who fill the seats of justice, and all who 
minister at her altar, that they execute the wholesome and neces- 
sary severity of the law. I invoke the ministers of our religion, 
that they proclaim its denunciation of these crimes, and add its 
solemn sanctions to the authority of human laws. If the pulpit 
be silent whenever or wherever there may be a sinner bloody 
with this guilt within the hearing of its voice, the pulpit is false 
to its trust. I call on the fair merchant, who has reaped his 
harvest upon the seas, that he assist in scourging from those seas 
the worst pirates that ever infested them. That ocean, which 
seems to wave with a gentle magnificence to waft the burden 
of an honest commerce, and to roll along its treasures with a 
conscious pride, — that ocean, which hardy industry regards, 
even when the winds have ruffled its surface, as a field of grate- 
ful toil, — what is it to the victim of this oppression, when he is 
brought to its shores, and looks forth upon it, for the first time, 
loaded with chains, and bleeding with stripes ? What is it to 
him but a wide-spread prospect of suffering, anguish and death ? 
Nor do the skies smile longer, nor is the air longer fragrant to 
him. The sun is cast down from heaven. An inhuman and 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 149 

accursed traffic has cut him off in his manhood, or in his youth, 
from every enjoyment belonging to his being, and every blessing 
which his Creator intended for him. 

The Christian communities send forth their emissaries of 
religion and letters, who stop, here and there, along the coast of 
the vast continent of Africa, and with painful and tedious efforts 
make some almost imperceptible progress in the communication 
of knowledge, and in the general improvement of the natives 
who are immediately about them. Not thus slow and impercep- 
tible is the transmission of the vices and bad passions which the 
subjects of Christian States carry to the land. The slave trade 
having touched the coast, its influence and its evils spread, like 
a pestilence, over the whole continent, making savage wars more 
savage and more frequent, and adding new and fierce passions 
to the contests of barbarians. 

I pursue this topic no further, except again to say, that all 
Christendom, being now blessed with peace, is bound by every- 
thing which belongs to its character, and to the character of the 
present age, to put a stop to this inhuman and disgraceful traffic. 

D. Webster. 
» 

ex. 

SUPPOSED SPEECH OF JOHN ADAMS IN FAVOR OF THE 
DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE. 

OINK or swim, live or die, survive or perish, I give my hand 
^ and my heart to this vote. It is true, indeed, that in the 
beginning, we aimed not at independence. But there 's a Divin- 
ity which shapes our ends. The injustice of England has driven 
us to arms ; and, blinded to her own interest, for our good, she 
has obstinately persisted, till independence is now within our 
grasp. We have but to reach forth to it, and it is ours. Why, 
then, should we defer the Declaration ? Is any man so weak as 
now to hope for a reconciliation with England, which shall leave 
either safety to the country and its liberties, or safety to his own 
life, and his own honor? Are not you, sir, who sit in that 
chair, — is not he, our venerable colleague, near you, — are yon 
not both already the proscribed and predestined objects of pun- 
ishment and vengeance ? Cut off from all hope of royal clem- 



150 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

ency, what are you, what can you be, while the power of Eng- 
land remains, but outlaws ? 

If we postpone independence, do we mean to carry on, or to 
give up, the war ? Do we mean to submit to the measures of 
Parliament, Boston Port Bill and all ? Do we mean to submit, 
and consent that we ourselves shall be ground to powder, and 
our country and its rights trodden down in the dust ? I know we 
do not mean to submit. We never shall submit. Do we intend 
to violate that most solemn obligation ever entered into by men, 
that plighting, before God, of our sacred honor to Washington, 
when putting him forth to incur the dangers of war, as well as 
the political hazards of the times, we promised to adhere to him, 
in every extremity, with our fortunes and our lives ? I know 
there is not a man here, who would not rather see a general con- 
flagration sweep over the land, or an earthquake sink it, than 
one jot or tittle of that plighted faith fall to the ground. For 
myself, having, twelve months ago, in this place, moved you, 
that George Washington be appointed commander of the forces, 
raised, or to be raised, for the defence of American liberty, may 
my right hand forget her cunning, and my tongue cleave to the 
roof of my mouth, if I hesitate or waver in the support I give him. 

The war, then, must go on. We must fight it through. And, 
if the war must go on, why put off longer the Declaration of 
Independence ? That measure will strengthen us : it will give 
us character abroad. The nations will then treat with us, which 
they never can do while we acknowledge ourselves subjects, in 
arms against our sovereign. Nay, I maintain that England her- 
self will sooner treat for peace with us on the footing of indepen- 
dence, than consent, by repealing her acts, to acknowledge that 
her whole conduct towards us has been a course of injustice and 
oppression. Her pride will be less wounded, by submitting to 
that course of things which now predestinates our independence, 
than by yielding the points in controversy to her rebellious sub- 
jects. The former she would regard as the result of fortune ; the 
latter she would feel as her own deep disgrace. Why then, why 
then, sir, do we not, as soon as possible, change this from a civil 
to a national war ? And since we must fight it through, why 
not put ourselves in a state to enjoy all the benefits of victory, 
if we gain the victory ? D. Webster. 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 151 

CXI. 
TIIE SAME CONCLUDED. 

TF we fail, it can be no worse for us. But we shall not fail. 
A The cause will raise up armies ; the cause will create na- 
vies. The people, the people, if we are true to them, will 
carry us, and will carry themselves, gloriously through this 
struggle. I care not how fickle other people have been found. 
I know the people of these Colonies, and I know that resistance 
to British aggression is deep and settled in their hearts, and can- 
not be eradicated. Every Colony, indeed, has expressed its will- 
ingness to follow, if we but take the lead. Sir, the Declaration 
will inspire the people with increased courage. Instead of a 
long and bloody war for restoraiion of privileges, for redress of 
grievances, for chartered immunities, held under a British king, 
set before them the glorious object of entire independence, and 
it will breathe into them anew the breath of life. Read this 
Declaration at the head of the army ; every sword will be drawn 
from its scabbard, and the solemn vow uttered, to maintain it, 
or to perish on the bed of honor. Publish it from the pulpit ; 
religion will approve it, and the love of religious liberty will 
cling round it, resolved to stand with it, or fall with it. Send it 
to the public halls ; proclaim it there ; let them hear it, who 
heard the first roar of the enemy's cannon ; let them see it, who 
saw their brothers and their sons fall on the field of Bunker Hill, 
and in the streets of Lexington and Concord, — and the very 
walls will cry out in its support. 

Sir, I know the uncertainty of human affairs ; but I see, I see 
clearly through this day's business. You and I, indeed, may 
rue it. We may not live to the time when this Declaration 
shall be made good. We may die ; die colonists ; die slaves ; 
die, it may be, ignominiously and on the scaffold. Be it so. Be 
it so. If it be the pleasure of Heaven, that my country shall 
require the poor offering of my life, the victim shall be ready at 
the appointed hour of sacrifice, come when that hour may. But, 
while I do live, let me have a country, or at least the hope of a 
country, and that a free country. 

But, whatever may be our fate, be assured, be assured, that 
this Declaration will stand. It may cost treasure, and it may 



152 *THE UNION SPEAKER. 

cost blood ; but it will stand, and it will richly compensate for 
both. Through the thick gloom of the present, I see the bright- 
ness of the future, as the sun in heaven. We shall make this a 
glorious, an immortal day. When we are in our graves, our 
children will honor it. They will celebrate it, with thanksgiv- 
ing, with festivity, with bonfires, and illuminations. On its 
annual return, they will shed tears, copious, gushing tears, not of 
subjection and slavery, not of agony and distress, but of exulta- 
tion, of gratitude, and of joy. 

Sir, before God, I believe the hour is come. My judgment 
approves this measure, and my whole heart is in it. All that I 
have, and all that I am, and all that I hope, in this life, I am 
now ready here to stake upon it ;' and I leave off, as I begun, 
that, live or die, survive or perish, I am for the Declaration. It 
is my living sentiment, and, by the blessing of God, it shall be 
my dying sentiment, — Independence now; and Indepen- 
dence FOREVER ! D. Webster. 



CXII. 
INFLUENCE OF THE CEARACTER OF WASHINGTON. 

A ME RICA has furnished to the world the character of 
~*-^- Washington ! And if our American institutions had done 
nothing else, that alone would have entitled them to the respect 
of mankind. 

Washington ! " First in war, first in peace, and first in the 
hearts of his countrymen ! " Washington is all our own ! The 
enthusiastic veneration and regard in which the people of the 
United States hold him prove them to be worthy of such a coun- 
tryman ; while his reputation abroad reflects the highest honor 
on his country and its institutions. I would cheerfully put the 
question to-day to the intelligence of Europe and the world, 
what character of the century, upon the whole, stands out in the 
relief* of history, most pure, most respectable, most sublime ; and 
I doubt not, that, by a suffrage approaching to unanimity, the 
answer would be Washington ! 

The structure now standing before us, by its uprightness, its 
solidity, its durability, is no unfit emblem of his character. His 
public virtues and public principles were as firm as the earth on 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 153 

which it stands; his personal motives, as pure as the serene 
heavens in which its summit is lost. But, indeed, though a fit, 
it is an inadequate emblem. Towering high above the column 
which our hands have builded, beheld, not by the inhabitants of 
a single city or a single State, but by all the families of man, 
ascends the colossal grandeur of the character and life of Wash- 
ington. In all the constituents of the one, in all the acts of the 
other, in all its titles to immortal love, admiration and renown, it 
is an American production. It is the embodiment and vindi- 
cation of our Transatlantic liberty. 

Born upon our soil, of parents also born upon it; never for a 
moment having had sight of the Old World ; instructed, accord- 
ing to the modes of his time, only in the spare, plain, but whole- 
some elementary knowledge which our institutions provided for 
the children of the people ; growing up beneath and penetrated 
by the genuine influences of American society ; living from in- 
fancy to manhood and age amidst our expanding, but not lux- 
urious* civilization; partaking in our great destiny of labor, our 
long contest with unreclaimed nature and uncivilized man, our 
agony of glory, the war of Independence, our great victory of 
peace, the formation of the Union, and the establishment of the 
Constitution ; he is all, all our own ! Washington is ours. That 
crowded and glorious life, - 

" Where multitudes of virtues passed along, 
Each pressing foremost, in the mighty throng 
Ambitious to be seen, then making room 
For greater multitudes that were to come," — 
that life was the life of an American citizen. 

I claim him for America. In all the perils, in every darkened 
moment of the State, in the midst of the reproaches of enemies 
and the misgiving of friends, I turn to that transcendent name 
for courage and for consolation. To him who denies or doubts 
whether our fervid liberty can be combined with law, with order, 
with the security of property, with the pursuits and advancement 
of happiness ; to him who denies that our forms of government 
are capable of producing exaltation of soul, and the passion of 
true glory ; to him who denies that we have contributed any- 
thing to the stock of great lessons and great examples ; — to all 
these I reply by pointing to Washington ! d. Webster. 



154 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

cxm. 
PUBLIC OPINION. 

'T^HE time has been, indeed, when fleets, and armies, and 
subsidies, were the principal reliances even in the best 
cause. But, happily for mankind, a great change has taken 
place in this respect. Moral causes come into consideration, in 
proportion as the progress of knowledge is advanced; and the 
public opinion of the civilized world is rapidly gaining an ascen- 
dency over mere brutal force. It is already able to oppose the 
most formidable obstruction to the progress of injustice and op- 
pression ; and as it grows more intelligent and more intense, it 
will be more and more formidable. It may be silenced by mili- 
tary power, but it cannot be conquered. It is elastic, irrepress- 
ible, and invulnerable to the weapons of ordinary warfare. It 
is that impassive, inextinguishable enemy of mere violence and 
arbitrary rule, which, like Milton's angels, 

" Vital in every part, 

Cannot, but by annihilating die." 

Until this be propitiated or satisfied, it is vain for power to 
talk either of triumphs or of repose. No matter what fields are 
desolated, what fortresses surrendered, what armies subdued, or 
what provinces overrun. In the history of the year that has 
passed by us, and in the instance of unhappy Spain, we have 
seen the vanity of all triumphs in a cause which violates the gen- 
eral sense of justice of the civilized world. It is nothing that 
the troops of France have passed from the Pyrenees to Cadiz ; 
it is nothing that an unhappy and prostrate nation has fallen be- 
fore them ; it is nothing that arrests, and confiscation, and exe- 
cution, sweep away the little remnant of national resistance. 
There is an enemy that still exists to check the glory of these 
triumphs. It follows the conqueror back to the very scene of 
his ovations ; it calls upon him to take notice that Europe, 
though silent, is yet indignant ; it shows him that the sceptre of 
his victory is a barren sceptre ; that it shall confer neither joy 
nor honor, but shall moulder to dry ashes in his grasp. In the 
midst of his exultation, it pierces his ear with the cry of injured 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 155 

justice ; it denounces against him the indignation of an enlight- 
ened and civilized age ; it turns to bitterness the cup of his re- 
joicing, and wounds him with the sting which belongs to the 
consciousness of having outraged the opinion of mankind. 

D. Webster. 



CXIV. 
TEE MURDERERS SECRET. 

rpHE deed was executed with a degree of self-possession and 
^~ steadiness, equal to the wickedness with which it was 
planned. The circumstances, now clearly in evidence, spread 
out the whole scene before us. Deep sleep had fallen on the 
destined victim, and on all beneath his roof. A healthful old 
man, to whom sleep was sweet, the first sound slumbers of the 
night held him in their soft but strong embrace. The assassin 
enters, through the window already prepared, into an unoccupied 
apartment. With noiseless foot he paces the lonely hall, half- 
lighted by the moon ; he winds up the ascent of the stairs, and 
reaches the door of the chamber. Of this, he moves the lock, 
by soft and continued pressure, till it turns on its hinges without 
noise ; and he enters, and beholds his victim before him. The 
room was uncommonly open to the admission of light. The face 
of the innocent sleeper was turned from the murderer, and the 
beams of the moon, resting on the gray locks of his aged temple, 
showed him where to strike. The fatal blow is given ! and the 
victim passes, without a struggle or a motion, from the repose of 
sleep to the repose of death ! It is the assassin's purpose to 
make sure work ; and he plies the dagger, though it is obvious 
that life has been destroyed by the blow of the bludgeon. He 
even raises the aged arm, that he may not fail in his aim at the 
heart, and replaces it again over the wounds of the poniard. To 
finish the picture, he explores the wrist for the pulse ! He feels 
for it, and ascertains that it beats no longer ! It is accomplished. 
The deed is done. He retreats, retraces his steps to the window, 
passes out through it as he came in, and escapes. He has done 
the murder. No eye has seen him, no ear has heard him. The 
secret is his own, and it is safe ! 

Ah ! gentlemen, that was a dreadful mistake. Such a secret 



156 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

can be safe nowhere. The whole creation of God has neither 
nook nor corner, where the guilty can bestow it, and say it is 
safe. Not to speak of that eye which glances through all dis- 
guises, and beholds everything, as in the splendor of noon, such 
secrets of guilt are never safe from detection, even by man. 

D. Webster. 



cxv. 

THE SAME CONCLUDED. 

r |^RUE it is, generally speaking, that murder " will out." 
True it is, that Providence hath so ordained, and doth so 
govern things, that those who break the great law of Heaven by 
shedding man's blood, seldom succeed in avoiding discovery. 
Especially, in a case exciting so much attention as this, dis- 
covery must and will come, sooner or later. A thousand eyes 
turn at once to explore every man, every thing, every circum- 
stance, connected with the time and place ; a thousand ears 
catch every whisper ; a thousand excited minds intensely dwell 
on the scene ; shedding all their light, and ready to kindle the 
slightest circumstance into a blaze of discovery. 

Meantime, the guilty soul cannot keep its own secret. It is 
false to itself; or rather it feels an irresistible impulse of con- 
science to be true to itself. It labors under its guilty possession, 
and knows not what to do with it. The human heart was not 
made for the residence of such an inhabitant. It finds itself 
preyed onjby a torment, which it dares not acknowledge to God 
or man. A vulture is devouring it, and it asks no sympathy or 
assistance, either from heaven or earth. The secret which the 
murderer possesses, soon comes to possess him ; and, like the 
evil spirits of which we read, it overcomes him, and leads him 
whithersoever it will. He feels it beating at his heart, rising to 
his throat, and demanding disclosure. He thinks the whole 
world sees it in his face, reads it in his eyes, and almost hears 
its workings in the very silence of his thoughts. It has become 
his master. It betrays his discretion, it "breaks down his courage, 
it conquers his prudence. When suspicions from without begin 
to embarrass him, and the net of circumstances to entangle him, 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 157 

the fatal secret struggles with still greater violence to burst forth. 
,It must be confessed ; it will be confessed ; there is no refuge 
from confession but suicide ; and suicide is confession. 

D. Webster. 

■♦ 

CXVI. 
DEFENCE OF AMERICAN CLERGYMEN. 

X>Y this Will, no minister of the Gospel of any sect or denomi- 
-*^ nation whatever can be authorized or allowed to hold any 
office within the college ; and not only that, but no minister or 
clergyman of any sect can, for any purpose whatever, enter 
within the walls that are to surround this college. 

Now I will not arraign the founder of this institution or his 
motives for this. I will not inquire into his opinions upon re- 
ligion. But I feel bound to say, the occasion demands that I 
should say, that this is the most opprobrious, the most insulting 
and unmerited stigma, that ever was cast, or attempted to be 
cast, upon the preachers of Christianity, from north to south, 
from east to west, through the length and breadth of the land, in 
the history of the country. When have they deserved it ? 
Where have they deserved it? How have they deserved it? 
They are not to be allowed even the ordinary rights of hospital- 
ity ; not even to be permitted to put their foot over the threshold 
of this college ! 

Sir, I take it upon myself to say, that in no country in the 
world, upon either continent, can there be found a body of minis- 
ters of the Gospel who perform so much service to man, in such 
a full spirit of self-denial, under so little encouragement from 
government of any kind, and under circumstances almost always 
much straitened and often distressed, as the ministers of the Gos- 
pel in the United States, of all denominations. They form no 
part of any established order of religion; they constitute no 
hierarchy ; they enjoy no peculiar privileges. In some of the 
States they are even shut out from all participation in the politi- 
cal rights and privileges enjoyed by their fellow-citizens. They 
enjoy no tithes, no public provision of any kind. Except here 
and there in large cities, where a wealthy individual occasionally 
makes a donation for the support of public worship, what have 



158 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

they to depend upon? They have to depend entirely on the 
voluntary contributions of those who hear them. 

And this body of clergymen has shown, to the honor of their 
own country and to the astonishment of the hierarchies of the 
Old World, that it is practicable in free governments to raise and 
sustain by voluntary contributions alone a body of clergymen, 
which, for devotedness to their sacred calling, for purity of life 
and character, for learning, intelligence, piety, and that wisdom 
which cometh from above, is inferior to none, and superior to 
most others. 

I hope that our learned men have done something for the 
honor of our literature abroad. I hope that the courts of justice 
and members of the bar of this country have done something 
to elevate the character of the profession of the law. I hope 
that the discussions above (in Congress) have done something to 
meliorate the condition of the human race, to secure and extend 
the great charter of human rights, and to strengthen and advance 
the great principles of human liberty. But I contend that no 
literary efforts, no adjudications, no constitutional discussions, 
nothing that has been said or done in favor of the great interests 
of universal man, has done this country more credit, at home 
and abroad, than the establishment of our body of clergymen, 
their support by voluntary contributions, and the general excel- 
lence of their character for piety and learning. 

The great truth has thus been proclaimed' and proved, a trutfe 
which I believe will in time to come shake all the hierarchies of 
Europe, that the voluntary support of such a ministry, under 
free institutions, is a practicable idea. x>. Webster. 

' — . — 

cxvn. 

PEACEABLE SECESSION IMPOSSIBLE. 

"jV/TR. PRESIDENT, I should much prefer to have heard 
from every member on this floor declarations of opinion 
that this Union could never be dissolved, than the declaration of 
opinion by any body, that, in any case, under the pressure of any 
circumstances, such a dissolution was possible. I hear with dis- 
tress and anguish the word " secession," especially when it falls 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 159 

from the lips of those who are patriotic, and known to the coun- 
try, and known all over the world, for their political services. 

Secession ! Peaceable secession ! Sir, your eyes and mine 
arc never destined to see that miracle. The dismemberment of 
this vast country without convulsion ! The breaking up of the 
fountains of the great deep without ruffling the surface ! Who 
is so foolish, I beg everybody's pardon, as to expect to see any 
such thing ? Sir, he who sees these States, now revolving in 
harmony around a common centre, and expects to see them quit 
their places and fly off without convulsion, may look the next 
hour to see the heavenly bodies rush from their spheres, and 
jostle against each other in the realms of space, without causing 
the wreck of the universe. 

There can be no such thing as peaceable secession. Peace- 
able secession is an utter im]»ossibility. Is the great Constitu- 
tion under which we live, covering this whole country, is it to be 
thawed and melted away by secession, as the snows on the 
mountain melt under the influence of a vernal sun, disappear 
almost unobserved, and run off? No, sir! No, sir! I will 
not state what might produce the disruption of the Union ; but, 
sir, I see as plainly as I see the sun in heaven what that disrup- 
tion itself must produce ; I see that it must produce war, and 
such a war as I will not describe, in its twofold character. 

Peaceable secession ! Peaceable secession ! The concurrent 
agreement of all the members of this great republic to separate ! 
A voluntary separation, with alimony on one side and on the 
other. Why, what would be the result? Where is the line to 
be drawn ? What States are to secede ? What is to remain 
American ? What am I to be ? An American no longer ? 
Am I to become a sectional man, a local man, a separatist, with 
no country in common with the gentlemen who sit around me 
here, or who fill the other house of Congress ? Heaven forbid ! 
Where is the flag of the republic to remain ? Where is the 
eagle still to tower? or is he to cower, and shrink, and fall to 
the ground ? Why, sir, our ancestors, our fathers and our 
grandfathers, those of them that are yet living amongst us with 
prolonged lives, would rebuke and reproach us ; and our chil- 
dren and our grandchildren would cry out shame upon us, if we 
of this generation should dishonor these ensigns of the power of 



160 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

the government and the harmony of that Union which is every 
day felt among us with so much joy and gratitude. 

What is to become of the army ? What is to become of the 
navy ? What is to become of the public lands ? How is each 
of the thirty States to defend itself? But, sir, I am ashamed to 
pursue this line of remark, I dislike it, I have an utter disgust 
for it. I would rather hear of natural blasts and mildews, war, 
pestilence, and famine, than to hear gentlemen talk of secession. 
To break up this great government ! to dismember this glorious 
country ! to astonish Europe with an act of folly such as Europe 
for two centuries has never beheld in any government or any 
people ! No, Sir ! no, Sir ! There will be no secession ! Gen- 
tlemen are not serious when they talk of secession. 

D. Webster. 
» t> 

CXVIII. 

LIBERTY AND UNION. 

T PROFESS, sir, in my career hitherto, to have kept steadily 
in view the prosperity and honor of the whole country, and 
the preservation of our Federal Union. It is to that Union we 
owe our safety at home, and our consideration and dignity abroad. 
It is to that Union that we are chiefly indebted for whatever makes 
us most proud of our country. That Union we reached only 
by the discipline of our virtues, in the severe school of adversity. 
It had its origin in the necessities of disordered finance, prostrate 
commerce, and ruined credit. Under its benign influences, these 
great interests immediately awoke, as from the dead, and sprang 
forth with newness of life. Every year of its duration has 
teemed with fresh proofs of its utility and its blessings ; and 
though our territory has stretched out wider and wider, and our 
population spread farther and farther, they have not outrun its 
protection or its benefits. It has been to us all a copious foun- 
tain of national, social, personal happiness. 

I have not allowed myself, sir, to look beyond the Union, to 
see what might lie hidden in the dark recesses behind. I have 
not coolly weighed the chances of preserving liberty, when the 
bonds that unite us together shall be broken asunder. I have 
not accustomed myself to hang over the precipice of disunion, to 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 161 

see whether, with my short sight, I can fathom the depth of the 
abyss below ; nor could I regard him as a safe counsellor in the 
affairs of this government, whose thoughts should be mainly 
bent on considering, not how the Union may be best preserved, 
but how tolerable might be the condition of the people when it 
shall be broken up and destroyed. 

While the Union lasts, we have high, exciting, gratifying pros- 
pects spread out before us, for us and our children. Beyond 
that 1 seek not to penetrate the veil. God grant that in my 
dav. at least, that curtain may not rise ! God grant that on my 
vision never may be opened what lies behind ! When my eyes 
shall be turned to behold for the last time the sun in heaven, 
may I not see him shining on the broken and dishonored frag- 
ments of a once glorious Union ; on States dissevered, discord- 
ant, belligerent ; on a land rent with civil feuds, or drenched, it 
may be, in fraternal blood ! Let their last feeble and lingering 
glance rather behold the gorgeous ensign of the republic, now 
known and honored throughout the earth, still full high advanced, 
its arms and trophies streaming in their original lustre, not a 
stripe erased or polluted, nor a single star obscured, bearing for 
its motto, no such miserable interrogatory as " What is all this 
worth ? " nor those other words of delusion and folly, " Liberty 
first and Union afterwards," but everywhere, spread all over in 
characters of living light, blazing on all its ample folds, as they 
float over the sea and over the land, and in every wind under the 
whole heavens, that other sentiment, dear to every true Amer- 
ican heart, — Liberty AND Union, now and for ever, 

ONE AND INSEPARABLE. &• Webster. 

♦ 

CXIX. 

EVENTS GREAT, BECAUSE OF THEIR RESULTS. 

^1 REAT actions and striking occurrences, having excited a 
temporary admiration, often pass away and are forgotten, 
because they leave no lasting results, affecting the prosperity and 
happiness of communities. Such is frequently the fortune of the 
most brilliant military achievements. Of the ten thousand bat- 
tles which have been fought, of all the fields fertilized with car- 
nage, of the banners which have been bathed in blood, of the 
11 



162 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

warriors who have hoped that they had risen from the field of 
conquest to a glory as bright and as durable as the stars, how 
few that continue long to interest mankind ! The victory of 
yesterday is reversed by the defeat ef to-day ; the star of mili- 
tary glory, rising like a meteor, like a meteor has fallen ; dis- 
grace and disaster hang on the heels of conquest and renown ; 
victor and vanquished presently pass away to oblivion, and the 
world goes on in its course, with the loss only of so many lives 
and so much treasure. 

But if this be frequently, or generally, the fortune of military 
achievements, it is not always so. There are enterprises, mili- 
tary as well as civil, which sometimes check the current of 
events, give a new turn to human affairs, and transmit their con- 
sequences through ages. We see their importance in their re- 
sults, and call them great because great things follow. There 
have been battles which have fixed the fate of nations. These 
come down to us in history with a solid and permanent interest, 
not created by a display of glittering armor, the rush of adverse 
battalions, the sinking and rising of pennons, the flight, the pur- 
suit, and the victory ; but by their effect in advancing or retard- 
ing human knowledge, in overthrowing or establishing despotism, 
in extending or destroying human happiness. 

When the traveller pauses on the plains of Marathon, what 
are the emotions which most strongly agitate his breast ? What 
is that glorious recollection, which thrills through his frame and 
suffuses his eyes ? Not, I imagine, that Grecian skill and Gre- 
cian valor were here most signally displayed ; but that Greece 
herself was here saved. It is because to this spot, and to the 
event which has rendered it immortal, he refers all the succeed- 
ing glories of the republic. It is because if that day had gone 
otherwise, Greece had perished. It is because he perceives that 
her philosophers and orators, her poets and painters, her sculp- 
tors and architects, her governments and free institutions, point 
backward to Marathon, and that their future existence seems to 
have been suspended on the contingency, whether the Persian or 
the Greek banner should wave victorious in the beams of that 
day's setting sun. And as his imagination kindles at the retro- 
spect, he is transported back to the interesting moment, he counts 
the fearful odds of the contending hosts, his interest for the re- 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 1G3 

suit overwhelms him ; he trembles, as if it were still uncertain, 
and seems to doubt whether he may consider Socrates and Plato, 
Demosthenes, Sophocles, and Phidias, as secure, yet, to himself 
and to the world. D. Webster. 



cxx. 
THE FUTURE OF AMERICA. 

TfELLOW-CITIZENS, the hours of this day are rapidly 
-*- flying, and this occasion will soon be passed. Neither we 
nor our children can expect to behold its return. They are in 
the distant regions of futurity, they exist only in the all-creating 
power of God, who shall stand here, a hundred years hence, to 
trace, through us, their descent from the Pilgrims, and to survey, 
as we have now surveyed, the progress of their country during 
the lapse of a century. We would anticipate their concurrence 
with us in our sentiments of deep regard for our common ances- 
tors. We would anticipate and partake the pleasure with which 
they will then recount the steps of New England's advancement. 
On the morning of that day, although it will not disturb us in 
our repose, the voice of acclamation and gratitude, commencing 
on the rock of Plymouth, shall be transmitted through millions 
of the sons of the Pilgrims, till it lose itself in the murmurs of 
the Pacific seas. We would leave, for the consideration of those 
who shall then occupy our places, some proof .that we hold the 
blessings transmitted from our fathers in just estimation ; some 
proof of our attachment to the cause of good government, and 
of civil and religious liberty ; some proof of a sincere and 
ardent desire to promote everything which may enlarge the un- 
derstandings, and improve the hearts, of men. And when, from 
the long distance of a hundred years, they shall look back upon 
us, they shall know, at least, that we possessed affections, which, 
running backward and warming with gratitude for what our an- 
cestors have done for our happiness, run forward also to our pos- 
terity, and meet them with cordial salutation, ere yet they have 
arrived on the shore of being. 

Advance, then, ye future generations! We would hail you, 
as you rise in your long succession, to fill the places which we 
now fill, and to taste the blessings of existence, where we are 



164 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

passing, and soon shall have passed, our human duration. We 
bid you welcome to the healthful skies and the verdant fields of 
New England. We greet your accession to the great inheri- 
tance which we have enjoyed. We welcome you to the blessings 
of good government, and religious liberty. We welcome you to 
the treasures of science, and the delights of learning. We wel- 
come you to the transcendent sweets of domestic life, to the hap- 
piness of kindred, and parents, and children. We welcome you 
to the immeasurable blessings of rational existence, the immortal 
hope of Christianity, and the light of everlasting truth. 

D. Webster. 



CXXI. 

LIBERTY OF SPEECH. 

TMPORTANT, sir, as I deem it to discuss, on all proper occa- 
sions, the policy of the measures at present pursued, it is 
still more important to maintain the right of such discussion in 
its full and just extent. Sentiments lately sprung up, and now 
growing fashionable, make it necessary to be explicit on this 
point. The more I perceive a disposition to check the freedom 
of inquiry by extravagant and unconstitutional pretences, the 
firmer shall be the tone in which I shall assert, and the freer the 
manner in which I shall exercise it. 

It is the ancient and undoubted prerogative of this people to 
canvass public measures, and the merits of public men. It is a 
"home-bred" right, a fireside privilege. It hath ever been en- 
joyed in every house, cottage, and cabin, in the nation. It is 
not to be drawn into controversy. It is as undoubted as the 
right of breathing the air, or walking on the earth. Belonging 
to private life as a right, it belongs to public life as a duty ; and 
it is the last duty which those whose representative I am shall 
find me to abandon. Aiming at all times to be courteous and 
temperate in its use, except when the right itself shall be ques- 
tioned, I shall then carry it to its extent. I shall place myself 
on the extreme boundary of my right, and bid defiance to any 
arm that would move me from my ground. 

This high constitutional privilege I shall defend and exercise 
within this house, and in all places ; in times of peace, and in 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 165 

all times. Living, I shall assert it ; and, should I leave no other 
inheritance to my children, by the blessing of God I will leave 
them the inheritance of free principles, and the example of a 
manly, independent, and constitutional defence of them. 

D. Webster. 



cxxn. 

WASHINGTON TO THE PRESENT GENERATION. 

"PELLOW-CITIZENS, — What contemplations are awak- 
ened in our minds, as we assemble here to reenact a scene 
like that performed by Washington ! Methinks I see his vener- 
able form now before me, as presented in the glorious statue by 
Houdon, now in the capital of Virginia. He is dignified and 
grave ; but his concern and anxiety seem to soften the linea- 
ments of his countenance. The government over which he pre- 
sides is yet in the crisis of experiment, Not free from troubles 
at home, he sees the world in commotion and arms, all around 
him. He sees that imposing foreign powers are half disposed to 
try the strength of the recently established American govern- 
ment. We perceive that mighty thoughts, mingled with fears as 
well as hopes, are struggling within him. He heads a short pro- 
cession over these then naked fields ; he crosses yonder stream 
on a fallen tree ; he ascends to the top of this eminence, whose 
original oaks of the forest stand as thick around him as if the 
spot had been devoted to Druidical worship, and here he per- 
forms the appointed duty of the day. 

And now, fellow-citizens, if this vision were a reality, — if 
Washington actually were now amongst us, — and if he could 
draw around him the shades of the great public men of his own 
days, — patriots and warriors, orators and statesmen, — and 
were to address us, in their presence, would he not say to us, — 
" Ye men of this generation, I rejoice, and thank God for being 
able to see that our labors, and toils, and sacrifices, were not in 
vain. You are prosperous, — you are happy, — you are grateful. 
The fire of liberty burns brightly and steadily in your hearts, 
while duty and the law restrain it from bursting forth in wild 
and destructive conflagration. Cherish liberty, as you love it ; 
— cherish its securities, as you wish to preserve it. Maintain 



166 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

the Constitution which we labored so painfully to establish, and 
which has been to you such a source of inestimable blessings. 
Preserve the Union of the States, cemented as it was by our 
prayers, our tears, and our blood. Be true to God, to your 
country, and to your duty. So shall the whole Eastern world 
follow the morning sun, to contemplate you as a nation ; so shall 
all succeeding generations honor you as they honor us ; and so 
shall that Almighty Power which so graciously protected us, and 
which now protects you, shower its everlasting blessings upon 
you and your posterity." 

Great father of your country ! we heed your words ; we feel 
their force as if you uttered them with life of flesh and blood. 
Your example teaches us ; your affectionate addresses teach 
us ; your ' public life teaches us your sense of the value of the 
blessings of the Union. Those blessings our fathers have tasted, 
and we have tasted, and still taste. Nor do we intend that 
those who come after us shall be denied the same high fruition. 
Our honor as well as our happiness is concerned. We cannot, 
we dare not, we will not, betray our sacred trust. We will not 
'filch from posterity the treasure placed in our hands to be 
transmitted to other generations. The bow that gilds the clouds 
in the heavens, the pillars that uphold the firmament, may disap- 
pear and fall away, in the hour appointed by the will of God ; 
but, until that day comes, or so long as our lives may last, no 
ruthless hand shall undermine that bright arch of Union and 
Liberty, which spans the continent from Washington to Cali- 
fornia. D. Webster. 



CXXIII. 
THE PLATFORM OF THE CONSTITUTION. 

A PEINCIPAL object, in his late political movements, the 
-*"*- gentleman himself tells us, was to unite the entire South ; 
and against whom, or against what, does he wish to unite the 
entire South ? Is not this the very essence of local feeling and 
local regard ? Is it not the acknowledgment of a wish and ob- 
ject to create political strength, by uniting political opinions geo- 
graphically ? While the gentleman wishes to unite the entire 
South, I pray to know, sir, if he expects me to turn toward the 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 167 

polar star, and, acting on the same principle, to utter a cry of 
Rally ! to the whole North ? Heaven forbid ! To the day of 
my death, neither he nor others shall hear such a cry from me. 

Finally, the honorable member declares that he shall now 
march off, under the banner* of State rights ! March off from 
whom ? March off from what ? We have been contending for 
great principles. We have been struggling to maintain the lib- 
erty and to restore the prosperity of the country ; we have made 
these struggles here, in the national councils, with the old flag — 
the true American flag, the Eagle and the Stars and Stripes — 
waving over the chamber in which we sit. He now tells us, 
however, that he marches off under the State-rights banner ! 

Let him go. I remain. I am, where I ever have been, and 
ever mean to be. Here, standing on the platform of the gen- 
eral Constitution, — a platform broad enough, and firm enough, 
to uphold every interest of the whole country, — I shall still be 
found. Intrusted with some part in the administration of that 
Constitution, I intend to act in its spirit, and in the spirit of those 
who framed it. Yes, sir. I would act as if our fathers, who 
formed it for us, and who bequeathed it to us, were looking on 
me, — as if I could see their venerable forms, bending down to 
behold us from the abodes above ! I would act, too, as if the 
eye of posterity was gazing on me. 

Standing thus, as in the full gaze of our ancestors and our 
posterity, having received this inheritance from the former to be 
transmitted to the latter, and feeling that, if I am born for any 
good, in my day and generation, it is for the good of the whole 
country, — no local policy, no local feeling, no temporary im- 
pulse, shall induce me to yield my foothold on the Constitution 
and the Union. I move off under no banner not known to the 
whole American People, and to their Constitution and laws. 
No, sir ! these walls, these columns, 

" shall fly 
From their firm base as soon as I." 

I came into public life, sir, in the service of the United States. 
On that broad altar my earliest and all my public vows have 
been made. I propose to serve no other master. So far as 
depends on any agency of mine, they shall continue United 



168 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

States ; — united in interest and in affection ; united in every- 
thing in regard to which the Constitution has decreed their 
union ; united in war, for the common defence, the common 
renown, and the common glory ; and united, compacted, knit 
firmly together, in peace, for the cWmon prosperity and happi- 
ness of ourselves and our children ! d. Webster. 



cxxrv. 
THE VETERANS OF THE BATTLE OF BUNKER HILL. • 

T^HE great event in the history of the Continent, which we 
are now met here to commemorate, that prodigy of modern 
times, at once the wonder and the blessing of the world, is the 
American Revolution. In a day of extraordinary prosperity 
and happiness, of high national honor, distinction, and power, we 
are brought together, in this place, by our love of country, by 
our admiration of exalted character, by our gratitude for signal 
services and patriotic devotion. And we now stand here to 
enjoy all the blessings of our own condition, and to look abroad 
on the brightened prospects of the world, while we still have 
among us some of those who were active agents in the scenes of 
1775, and who are now here, from every quarter of New Eng- 
land, to visit once more, and under circumstances so affecting, — 
I had almost said so overwhelming, this renowned theatre of 
their courage and patriotism. 

Venerable men ! you have come down to us from a former 
generation. Heaven has bounteously lengthened out your lives, 
that you may behold this joyous day. You are now where you 
stood fifty years ago, this very hour, with your brothers and 
your neighbors, shoulder to shoulder, in the strife for your coun- 
try. Behold, how altered ! The same heavens are indeed over 
your heads ; the same ocean rolls at your feet ; but all else how 
changed ! You hear now no roar of hostile cannon, you see no 
mixed volumes of smoke and flame rising from burning Charles- 
town. The ground strowed with the dead and the dying ; the 
impetuous charge ; the steady and successful repulse ; the loud 
call to repeated assault ; the summoning of all that is manly to 
repeated resistance; a thousand bosoms freely and fearlessly 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 169 

bared in an instant to whatever of terror there may be in war 
and death ; — all these you have witnessed, but you witness 
them no more. All is peace. The heights of yonder metropolis, 
its towers and roofs, which you then saw filled with wives and 
children and countrymen in distress and terror, and looking with 
unutterable emotions for the issue of the combat, have presented 
you to-day with the sight of its whole happy population, come 
out to welcome and greet you with a universal jubilee. Yonder 
proud ships, by a felicity of position appropriately lying at the 
foot of this mount, and seeming fondly to cling around it, are not 
means of annoyance to you, but your country's own means of dis- 
tinction and defence. All is peace ; and God has granted you 
this sight of your country's happiness, ere you slumber in the 
grave. He has allowed you to behold and to partake the reward 
of your patriotic toils ; and he has allowed us, your sons and 
countrymen, to meet you here, and in the name of the present 
generation, in the name of your country, in the name of liberty, 
to thank you ! 

But, alas ! you are not all here ! Time and the sword have 
thinned your ranks. Prescott, Putnam, Stark, Brooks, Read, 
Pomeroy, Bridge ! our eyes seek for you in vain amid this 
broken band. You are gathered to your fathers, and live only 
to your country in her grateful remembrance and your own bright 
example. But let us not too much grieve, that you have met 
the common fate of men. You lived at least long enough to 
know that your work had been nobly and successfully accom- 
plished. You lived to see your country's independence estab- 
lished, and to sheathe your swords from war. On the light of 
Liberty you saw arise the light of Peace, like 

"another morn, 
Risen on mid-noon ; 

and the sky on which you closed your eyes was cloudless. 

But ah ! Him ! the first great martyr in this great cause ! 
Him ! the premature victim of his own self-devoting heart ! Him ! 
the head of our civil councils, and the destined leader of our mil- 
itary bands, whom nothing brought hither but the unquench- 
able fire of his own spirit ! Him ! cut off by Providence in the 
hour of overwhelming anxiety and thick gloom ; falling ere he 



170 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

saw the star of his country rise ; pouring out his generous blood 
like water, before he knew whether it would fertilize a land of 
freedom or of bondage ! — how shall I struggle with the emo- 
tions that stifle the utterance of thy name ! Our poor work 
may perish ; but thine shall endure ! This monument may 
moulder away ; the solid ground it rests upon may sink down to 
a level with the sea ; but thy memory shall not fail ! Whereso- 
ever among men a heart shall be found that beats to the trans- 
ports of patriotism and liberty, its aspirations shall be to claim 
kindred with thy spirit ! d. Wedster. 



cxxv. 

REPLY TO THE REFLECTIONS OF MR. W ALP OLE. 

OIR, the atrocious crime of being a young man, which the 
^ honorable gentleman has, with such spirit and decency 
charged upon me, I shall neither attempt to palliate nor deny ; 
but content myself with wishing, — that T may be one of those 
whose follies cease with their youth ; and not of that number 
who are ignorant in spite of experience. 

Whether youth can be imputed to any man as a reproach, I 
will not, sir, assume the province of determining ; but surely, 
age may become justly contemptible, — if the opportunities 
which it brings have passed away without improvement, and 
vice appears to prevail when the passions have subsided. The 
wretch who, after having seen the consequences of a thousand 
errors, continues still to blunder, and whose age has only added 
obstinacy to stupidity, is surely the object of either abhorrence 
or contempt ; and deserves not that his gray hairs should secure 
him from insult. Much more, sir, is he to be abhorred, — who, 
as he has advanced in age, has receded from virtue, and becomes 
more wicked with less temptation ; who prostitutes himself for 
money which he cannot enjoy, and spends the remains of his life 
in the ruin of his country. 

But youth, sir, is not my only crime. I have been accused of 
acting a theatrical part. A theatrical part may either imply 
some peculiarities of gesture, or dissimulation of my real senti- 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 171 

ments, and the adoption of the opinions and language of another 
man. In the first sense the charge is too trifling to be confuted, 
and deserves only to be mentioned that it may be despised. I am 
at liberty, like every other man, to use my own language : and 
though I may, perhaps, have some ambition, yet to please this 
gentleman, I shall not lay myself under any restraint, nor very 
solicitously copy his diction, or his mien, however matured by 
age, or modelled by experience. If any man shall, by charging 
me with theatrical behavior, imply that I utter any sentiments 
but my own, I shall treat him as a calumniator and a villain ; 
nor shall any protection shelter him from the treatment he' 
deserves. I shall, on such an occasion, without scruple trample 
upon all those forms with which wealth and dignity intrench 
themselves, nor shall anything but age restrain my resentment ; 
age which always brings one privilege, that of "being insolent and 
supercilious without punishment. But with regard, sir, to those 
whom I have offended, I am of opinion, that if I had acted a 
borrowed part I should have avoided their censure ; the heat 
that offended them was the ardor of conviction, and that zeal for 
the service of my country, which neither hope nor fear shall 
influence me to suppress. I will not sit unconcerned while my 
liberty is invaded, nor look in silence upon public robbery. I 
will exert my endeavors, at whatever hazard, to repel the ag- 
gressor, and drag the thief to justice, — whoever may protect 
them in their villainy, and whoever may partake of their plunder. 

Lord Chatham. 



cxxvr. 

SPEECH AGAINST THE AMERICAN WAR. 

J CANNOT, my Lords, I will not, join in congratulation on 
misfortune and disgrace. This, my Lords, is a perilous and 
tremendous moment. It is not a time for adulation : the smooth- 
ness of flattery cannot save us in this rugged and awful crisis. 
It is now necessary to instruct the throne in the language of 
truth. We must, if possible, dispel the delusion and darkness 
which envelop it, and display, in its full danger and genuine col- 
ors, the ruin which is brought to our doors. Can ministers still 



172 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

presume to expect support in their infatuation ? Can parliament 
be so dead to its dignity and duty, as to give their support to 
measures thus obtruded and forced upon them ? Measures, my 
Lords, which have reduced this late flourishing empire to scorn 
and contempt. " But yesterday, and Britain might have stood 
against the world ; now, none so poor as to do her reverence." 
The people, whom we at first despised as rebels, but whom we 
now acknowledge as enemies, are abetted against us, supplied 
with every military ' store, have their interests consulted, and 
their ambassadors entertained by our inveterate enemy — and 
ministers do not, and dare not, interpose with dignity or effect. 
The desperate state of our army abroad is in part known. No 
man more highly esteems and honors the British troops than I 
do ; I know their virtues and their valor : I know they can 
achieve anything but impossibilities ; and I know that the con- 
quest of British America is an impossibility. You cannot, my 
Lords, you cannot conquer America. What is your present situ- 
ation there ? We do not know the worst ; but we know that in 
three campaigns, we have done nothing, and suffered much. You 
may swell every expense, accumulate every assistance, and ex- 
tend your traffic to the shambles of every German despot ; your 
attempts will be forever vain and impotent — doubly so, indeed, 
from this mercenary aid on which you rely ; for it irritates, to 
an incurable resentment, the minds of your adversaries, to over- 
run them with the mercenary sons of rapine and plunder, devot- 
ing them and their possessions to the rapacity of hireling cru- 
elty. If I were an American, as I am an Englishman, while a 
foreign troop was landed in my country, I never would lay down 
my arms — never, never, NEVER ! Lord Chatham. 



exxvn. 

SPEECH AGAINST EMPLOYING INDIANS IN WAR. 

F> UT, my Lords, who is the man that, in addition to the dis- 
graces and mischiefs of our army, has dared to authorize and 
associate to our arms the tomahawk and scalping-knife of the 
savao-e ? — to call into civilized alliance the wild and inhuman 
inhabitants of the woods ? — to delegate to the merciless Indian 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 173 

the defence of disputed rights, and to wage the horrors of this 
barbarous war against our brethren ? My Lords, these enormi- 
ties cry aloud for redress and punishment. But, my Lords, this 
barbarous measure has been defended, not only on the principles 
of policy and necessity, but also on those of morality ; " for it is 
perfectly justifiable," says Lord Suffolk, "to use all the means 
which God and nature have put into our hands." I am aston- 
ished ! — I am shocked ! — to hear such principles confessed ; — to 
hear them avowed in this House, or in this country. My Lords, I 
did not intend to encroach so much on your attention, but I cannot 
repress my indignation — I feel myself impelled to speak. My 
Lords, we are called upon as members of this House, as men, as 
Christians, to protest against such horrible barbarity ! — " That 
God and nature have put into our hands " ! What ideas of God 
and nature that noble lord may entertain, I know not ; but I 
know, that such detestable principles are equally abhorrent to 
religion and humanity. What ! to attribute the sacred sanction 
of God and nature to the massacres of the Indian scalping-knife ! 
to the cannibal savage, torturing, murdering, devouring, drinking 
the blood of his mangled victims ! Such notions shock every 
precept of morality, every feeling of humanity, every sentiment 
of honor. These abominable principles, and this more abomi- 
nable avowal of them, demand the most decisive indignation. 

I call upon that right reverend, and this most learned bench, 
to vindicate the religion of their God, to support the justice of 
their country. I call upon the bishops to interpose the unsullied 
sanctity of their lawn ; upon the learned judges to interpose the 
purity of their ermine, — to save us from this pollution. I call 
upon the honor of your Lordships, to reverence the dignity of 
your ancestors, and to maintain your own. I call upon the spirit 
and humanity of my country, to vindicate the national character. 
I invoke the genius of the Constitution! From the tapestry that 
adorns these Avails, the immortal ancestor of this noble lord frowns 
with indignation at the disgrace of his country. In vain did he 
defend the liberty, and establish the religion of Britain, against the 
tyranny of Rome, if these worse than popish cruelties, and inquisi- 
torial practices, are endured among us. To send forth the merci- 
less cannibal, thirsting for blood ! — against whom ? — your Prot- 
estant brethren ! — to lay waste their country, to desolate their 



174 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

dwellings, and extirpate their race and name, by the aid and 
instrumentality of these horrible hounds of war ! Spain can no 
longer boast preeminence in barbarity. She armed herself with 
bloodhounds, to extirpate the wretched natives of Mexico, and 
we improve on the inhuman example even of Spanish cruelty ; 
we turn loose these savage hell-hounds against our brethren and 
countrymen in America, endeared to us by every tie that can 
sanctify humanity. I again call upon your Lordships, and upon 
every order of men in the State, to stamp upon this infamous 
procedure the indelible stigma of the public abhorrence. And 
I again implore those holy prelates of our religion to do away 
this iniquity ; let them perform a lustration, to purify the coun- 
try from this deep and deadly sin. My Lords, I am old and 
weak, and at present unable to say more; but my feelings and 
indignation werfe too strong to have said less. I could not have 
slept this night in my bed, nor even reposed my head upon my 
pillow, without giving vent to my eternal abhorrence of such 
enormous and preposterous principles. Lord Chatham. 



cxxvin. 
HONORABLE AMBITION. 

T HAVE been accused of ambition in presenting this meas- 
-^ ure — ambition, inordinate ambition. If I had thought of 
myself only, I should have never brought it forward. I know 
well the perils to which I expose myself: the risk of alienating 
faithful and valued friends, with but little prospect of making 
new ones, if any new ones could compensate for the loss of 
those we have long tried and loved ; and the honest misconcep- 
tion both of friends and foes. Ambition ? If I had listened to 
its soft and seducing whispers ; if I had yielded myself to the 
dictates of a cold, calculating, and prudential policy, I would 
have stood still and unmoved. I might even have silently gazed 
on the raging storm, enjoyed its loudest thunders, and left those 
who are charged with the care of the vessel of State to conduct 
it as they could. 

I have been, heretofore, often unjustly accused of ambition. 
Low, grovelling souls, who are utterly incapable of elevating 
themselves to the higher and nobler duties of pure patriotism, — 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 175 

beings who, forever keeping their own selfish ends in view, de- 
cide all public measures by their presumed influence on their 
aggrandizement — judge me by the venal rule which they pre- 
scribe to themselves. I have given to the winds those false 
accusations, as I consign that which now impeaches my motives. 
I have no desire for office, not even the highest. The most ex- 
alted is but a prison, in which the incarcerated incumbent daily 
receives his cold, heartless visitants, marks his weary hours, and 
is cut off from the practical enjoyment of all the blessings of 
genuine freedom. I am no candidate for any office in the gift 
of the people of these States, united or separated ; I never wish, 
never expect to be. 

Pass this bill, tranquillize the country, restore confidence and 
affection in the Union, and I am willing to go home to Ashland, 
and renounce public service forever. I should there find, in its 
groves, under its shades, on its lawns, midst my flocks and herds, 
in the bospm of my family, sincerity and truth, attachment and 
fidelity, and gratitude which I have not always found in the 
walks of public life. 

Yes, I have ambition ! but it is the ambition of being the 
humble instrument, in the hands of Providence, to reconcile a 
divided people ; once more to revive concord and harmony in a 
distracted land, — the pleasing ambition of contemplating the 
glorious spectacle of a free, united, prosperous, and fraternal 
people. H. Clay. 



exxix. 

THE NOBLEST PUBLIC VIRTUE. 

rf^HERE is a sort of courage, to which — I frankly confess 
"*- it — I do not lay claim ; a boldness to which I dare not 
aspire ; a valor which I cannot covet. I cannot lay myself down 
in the way of the welfare and happiness of my country. That, I 
cannot, I have not the courage to do. I cannot interpose the 
power with which I may be invested, — a power conferred, not 
for my personal benefit or aggrandizement, but for my country's 
good, — to check her onward march to greatness and glory. I 
have not courage enough, — I am too cowardly for that ! 

I would not, I dare not, lie down, and place my body across 



176 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

the path that leads my country to prosperity and happiness. 
This is a sort of courage widely different from that which a man 
may display in his private conduct and personal relations. Per- 
sonal or private courage is totally distinct from that higher and 
nobler courage which prompts the patriot to offer himself a vol- 
untary sacrifice to his country's good. 

Apprehensions of the imputation of the want of firmness some- 
times impel us to perform rash and inconsiderate acts. It is the 
greatest courage to be able to bear the imputation of the want 
of courage. But pride, vanity, egotism, so unamiable and offen- 
sive in private life, are vices which partake of the character of 
crimes in the conduct of public affairs. The unfortunate victim 
of these passions cannot see beyond the little, petty, contempt- 
ible circle of his own personal interest. All his thoughts are 
withdrawn from his country, and concentrated on his consistency, 
his firmness, himself. 

The high, the exalted, the sublime emotions of a patriotism 
which, soaring toward heaven, rises far above all mean, low, or 
selfish things, and is absorbed by one soul-transporting thought 
of the good and glory of one's country, are never felt in his im- 
penetrable bosom. That patriotism which, catching its inspira- 
tion from on high, and, leaving at an immeasurable distance 
below all lesser, grovelling, personal interests and feelings, — 
animates and prompts to deeds of self-sacrifice, of valor, of devo- 
tion, and of death itself, — that is public virtue ; that is the 
noblest, the sublimest of all public virtues. h. Clay. 



cxxx. 

PLEA FOR THE UNION. 

\ T a moment when the White House itself is in danger of 
conflagration, instead of all hands uniting to extinguish the 
flames, we are contending about who shall be its next occupant. 
When a dreadful crevasse has occurred, which threatens inunda- 
tion and destruction to all around it, we are contesting and dis- 
puting about the profits of an estate which is threatened with 
total submersion. 

Mr. President, it is passion, passion — party, party, and in- 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 177 

temperance — that is all I dread in the adjustment of the great 
questions which unhappily at this time divide our distracted 
country. Sir, at this moment we have in the legislative bodies 
of this Capitol and in the States, twenty-odd furnaces in full 
blast, emitting heat and passion, and intemperance, and diffusing 
them throughout the whole extent of this broad land. Two 
months ago all was calm in comparison to the present moment. 
All now is uproar, confusion, and menace to the existence of the 
Union, and to the happiness and safety of this people. Sir, I 
implore Senators, I entreat them, by all that they expect here- 
after, and by all that is dear to them here below, to repress the 
ardor of these passions, to look to their country, to its interests, to 
listen to the voice of reason. 

Mr. President, I have said — what I solemnly believe — that 
the dissolution of the Union and war are identical and insepara- 
ble ; that they are convertible terms. Such a war, too, as that 
would be, following the dissolution of the Union ! Sir, we may 
search the pages of history, and none so furious, so bloody, so 
implacable, so exterminating, from the wars of Greece down, 
including those of the Commonwealth of England, and the revo- 
lution of France — none, none of them raged with such violence, 
or was ever conducted with such bloodshed and enormities, as 
will that war which shall follow that disastrous event — if that 
event ever happen — the dissolution of the Union. 

And what would be its termination ? Standing armies and 
navies, draining the revenues of each portion of the dissevered 
empire, would be created ; exterminating war would follow — 
not a war of two or three years, but of interminable duration — 
until some Philip or Alexander, some Caesar or Napoleon, would 
rise to cut the Gordian Knot, and solve the problem of the 
capacity of man for self-government, and crush the liberties of 
both the dissevered portions of this Union. Can you, sir, lightly 
contemplate these consequences ? Can you yield yourself to a 
torrent of passion, amidst dangers which I have depicted in 
colors far short of what would be the reality, if the event should 
ever happen? 

I implore gentlemen — I adjure them from the South or the 
North, by all they hold dear in this world — by all their love 
of liberty, by all their veneration for their ancestors — by all 
12 



178 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

their regard for posterity — by all their gratitude to Him who 
has bestowed upon them such unnumbered blessings — by all 
the duties which they owe to mankind, and all the duties they 
owe to themselves — by all these considerations, I implore upon 
them to pause — solemnly to pause — at the edge of the preci- 
pice before the fearful and disastrous leap is taken into the 
yawning abyss -below, from which none who take it will ever 
return in safety. 

And, finally, Mr. President, I implore, as the best blessing 
which Heaven can bestow upon me on earth, that if the direful 
and sad event of the dissolution of the Union ^hall happen, I 
may not survive to behold the melancholy and heart-rending 
spectacle. Ht aay . 



cxxxi. 
NATIONAL GLORY. 

~Wf E are asked, what have we gained by the war ? I have 
shown that we have lost nothing, either in rights, terri- 
tory, or honor ; nothing, for which we ought to have contended, 
according to the principles of the gentlemen on the other side, 
or according to our own. Have we gained nothing by the war 3 
Let any man look at the degraded condition of the country 
before the war, — the scorn of the universe, the contempt of 
ourselves, and tell me if we have gained nothing by the war. 
"What is our present situation ? Respectability and character 
abroad ; security and confidence at home. If we have not ob- 
tained, in the opinion of some, the full measure of retribution, 
our character and Constitution are placed on a solid basis, never 
to be shaken. 

The glory acquired by our gallant tars on the sea, by our 
Jacksons and our Browns on the land, is that nothing ? True 
we had our vicissitudes : there are humiliating events which the 
patriot cannot review without deep regret ; but the great account 
wb^i it comes to be balanced, will be found vastly in our favor. 
Is there a man who would obliterate from the proud pages of 
our history, the brilliant achievements of Jackson, Brown, and 
Scott, and the host of heroes on land and sea whom I cannot 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 179 

enumerate ? Is there a man who could not desire a participation 
in the national glory acquired by the war ? Yes, national glory, 
which, however the expression may be condemned by some, 
must be cherished by every genuine patriot. 

What do I mean by national glory ? Glory such as Hull, 
Jackson, and Perry have acquired. And are gentlemen insen- 
sible to their deeds, to the value of them in animating the coun- 
try in the hour of peril hereafter ? Did the battle of Ther- 
mopylae preserve Greece but once ? While the Mississippi 
contributes to bear the tributes of the Iron Mountains and the 
Alleghanies to her delta, and to the Gulf of Mexico, the eighth 
of January shall be remembered, and the glory of that day shall 
stimulate future patriots, and nerve the arms of unborn freemen, 
in driving the presumptuous invader from our country's soil. 

Gentlemen may boast of their insensibility to feelings inspired 
by the contemplation of such events. But I would ask, does the 
recollection of Bunker's Hill, Saratoga, and Yorktown, afford no 
pleasure ? Every act of noble sacrifice of the country, every 
instance of patriotic devotion to her cause, has its beneficial 
influence. A nation's character is the sum of its splendid deeds ; 
they constitute one common patrimony, the country's inheritance. 
They awe foreign powers ; they arouse and animate our own 
people. I love true glory. It is this sentiment which ought to 
be cherished ; and, in spite of cavils, and sneers, and attempts to 
put it down, it will rise triumphant, and finally conduct this 
nation to that height, to which nature and nature's God have 
destined it. h. Clay. 



CXXXII. 
BRUTUS ON THE DEATH OF CAESAR. 

T> OMANS, countrymen^ and lovers ! Hear me for my cause ; 
and be silent, that you may hear. Believe me for mine 
honor ; and have respect to mine honor, that you may believe. 
Censure me in your wisdom ; and awake your senses, that you 
may be the better judge. If there be any in this assembly, — 
any dear friend of Caesar's, — to him I say, that Brutus' love to 
Caesar was not less than his. If, then, that friend demand why 



180 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

Brutus rose against Caesar, this is my answer : Not that I loved 
Caesar less, but that I loved Rome more. Had you rather 
Caesar were living, and die all slaves ; than that Caesar were 
dead, to live all freemen ? As Caesar loved me, I weep for him ; 
as he was fortunate, I rejoice at it ; as he was valiant, I honor 
him ; but as he was ambitious, I slew him. There are tears for 
his love, joy for his fortune, honor for his valor, and death for 
his ambition. 

Who is here so base, that would be a bondman ? If any, 
speak; for him have I offended. Who is here so rude, that 
would not be a Roman ? If any, speak ; for him have I offended. 
Who is here so vile, that will not love his country ? If any, 
speak ; for him have I offended. I pause for a reply, 

None ? Then none have I offended. I have done no more 
to Caesar than you shall do to Brutus. The question of his 
death is enrolled in the Capitol ; his glory not extenuated, 
wherein he was worthy ; nor his offences enforced, for which he 
suffered death. 

Here comes his body, mourned by Mark Antony, who, 
though he had no hand in his death, shall receive the benefit of 
his dying, a place in the commonwealth ; as which of you shall 
not ? With this I depart ; — that, as I slew my best lover for 
the good of Rome, I have the same dagger for myself, when it 
shall please my country to need my death. Shakspeare. 



cxxxm. 
HAMLETS ADDRESS TO THE PLATERS. 

O PEAK the speech, I pray you, as I pronounced it to you, 
^ trippingly on the tongue ; but if you mouth it, as many of 
our players do, I had as lief the town-crier spoke my lines. 
Nor do not saw the air too much with* your hand, thus ; but use 
all gently ; for in the very torrent, tempest, and (as I may say) 
whirlwind of your passion, you must acquire and beget a tem- 
perance, that may give it smoothness. O, it offends me to the 
soul, to hear a robustious periwig-pated fellow tear a passion to 
tatters, to very rags, to split the ears of the groundlings, who 
for the most part, are capable of nothing but inexplicable dumb 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 181 

shows and noise : I would have such a fellow whipped for o'er- 
doing Termagant ; it out-herods Herod. I pray you, avoid it. 

Be not too tame neither, but let your own discretion be your 
tutor : suit the action to the word, the word to the action ; with 
this special observance, that you o'erstep not the modesty of 
nature ; for anything so overdone is from the purpose of playing, 
whose end, both at the first and now, was, and is, to hold, as it 
were, the mirror up to nature ; to show virtue her own feature, 
scorn her own image, and the very age and body of the time 
his form and pressure. Now this overdone, or come tardy off, 
though it make the unskilful laugh, cannot but make the judi- 
cious grieve ; the censure of which one, must in your allowance 
o'erweigh a whole theatre of others. O, there be players, that 
I have seen play, — and heard others praise, and that highly, — 
not to speak it profanely, that, neither having the accent of 
Christians, nor the gait of Christian, Pagan, nor man, have so 
strutted and bellowed, that I have thought some of Nature's jour- 
neymen had made men, and not made them well, they imitated 
humanity so abominably. Shakspeare. 



CXXXIV. 

FALSTAFFS DESCRIPTION OF HIS SOLDIERS. 

IF I be not ashamed of my soldiers, I am a soused gurnet. I 
have misused the king's press outrageously. I have got, in 
exchange of an hundred and fifty soldiers, three hundred and 
odd pounds. I press me none but good householders, yeoman's 
sons ; inquire me out contracted bachelors, such as have been 
asked twice on the banns ; such a commodity of warm slaves, as 
had as lief hear the devil as a drum ; such as fear the report of 
a culverin worse than a struck deer or a hurt wild duck. I pressed 
me none but such toasts in butter, with hearts in their breasts no 
bigger than pins' heads ; and they bought out their services ; 
and now my whole charge consists of slaves as ragged as Laza- 
rus in the painted cloth, where the glutton's dogs licked his 
sores ; discarded, unjust serving-men, younger sons to younger 
brothers, revolted tapsters, and hostlers trade-fallen, the cankers 
of a calm world and a long peace ; and such have I to fill up 



182 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

the rooms of them that have bought out their services, that you 
would think, that I had an hundred and fifty tattered prodigals, 
lately come from swine-keeping, from eating draff and husks. A 
mad fellow met me on the way, and told me I had unloaded all 
the gibbets, and pressed the dead bodies. No eye hath seen such 
scarecrows. I '11 not march through Coventry with them, that 's 
flat. Nay, and the villains march wide betwixt the legs, as if 
they had gyves on ; for, indeed, I had the most of them out of 
prison. There 's but a shirt and a half in all my company ; and 
the half-shirt it is two napkins tacked together, and thrown over 
the shoulders like a herald's coat without sleeves ; and the shirt, 
to say the truth, stolen from my host of St. Albans, or the red- 
nosed innkeeper of Daintry. But that 's all one ; they '11 find linen 
enough on every hedge. Shakspeare. 



cxxxv. 
SOLILOQUY ON CHARACTER. 

A S young as I am, I have observed these three swashers. I 
"*■■*■ am boy to them all three : but all they three, though they 
would serve me, could not be man to me ; for, indeed, three such 
antics do not amount to a man. For Bardolph, — he is white- 
livered, and red-faced ; by the means whereof, 'a faces it out, 
but fights not. For Pistol, — he hath a killing tongue, and a 
.quiet sword ; by the means whereof, 'a breaks words, and keeps 
whole weapons. For Nym, — he hath heard, that men of a few 
words are the best men ; and therefore he scorns to say his 
prayers, lest 'a should be thought a coward ; but his few bad 
words are matched with as few good deeds ; for 'a never broke 
any man's head but his own, and that was against a post, when 
he was drunk. They will steal anything, and call it — purchase. 
Bardolph stole a lute-case ; bore it twelve leagues, and sold it 
for three half-pence. Nym and Bardolph are sworn brothers in 
filching ; and in Calais they stole a fire-shovel ; I knew, by that 
piece of service, the men would carry coals. They would have 
me as familiar with men's pockets, as their gloves or their hand- 
kerchiefs ; which makes much against my manhood^ if I should 
take from another's pocket, to put into mine ; for it is plain pock- 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 183 

eting up of wrongs. I must leave them, and seek some better 
service : their villany goes against my weak stomach, and there- 
fore I must cast it up. Shakspeare. 



CXXXVI. 
DEATH OF HAMILTON. 

A SHORT time since, and he who is the occasion of our sor- 
-*■-*- rows, was the ornament of his country. He stood on an 
eminence ; and glory covered him. From that eminence he has 
fallen — suddenly, forever, fallen. His intercourse with the 
living world is now ended ; and those who would hereafter find 
him must seek him in the grave. There, cold and lifeless, is the 
heart which just now was the seat of friendship. There, dim 
and sightless is the eye, whose radiant and enlivening orb 
beamed with intelligence; and there, closed forever are those 
Lips, on whose persuasive accents we have so often and so lately 
hung with transport. 

From the darkness which rests upon his tomb there proceeds, 
methinks, a light in which it is clearly seen that those gaudy 
objects which men pursue are only phantoms. In this light how 
dimly shines the splendor of victory — how humble appears the 
majesty of grandeur. The bubble which seemed to have so 
much solidity has burst ; and we again see that all below the 
sun is vanity. 

True, the funeral eulogy has been pronounced. The sad and 
solemn procession has moved. The badge of mourning has al- 
ready been decreed, and presently the sculptured marble will 
lift up its front, proud to perpetuate the name of Hamilton, and 
rehearse to the passing traveller his virtues. 

Just tributes of respect ! And to the living useful. But to 
him, mouldering in his narrow and humble habitation, what are 
they ? How vain ! how unavailing ! Approach, and behold — 
while 1 1 lift from Jiis sepulchre its covering. Ye admirers of his 
greatness, ye emulous of his talents and his fame, approach, and 
behold him now. How pale ! how silent ! No martial bands 
admire the adroitness of his movements. No fascinated throng 
weep — and melt — and tremble at his eloquence ! — Amazing 



184 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

change. A shroud ! a coffin ! a narrow subterraneous cabin ! 
This is all that now remains of Hamilton ! And is this all that 
remains of him ? — During a life so transitory, what lasting 
monument then can our fondest hopes erect ? 

My brethren ! we stand on the borders of an awful gulf, which 
is swallowing up all things human. And is there, amidst this 
universal wreck, nothing stable, nothing abiding, nothing immor- 
tal, on which poor, frail, dying man can fasten ? 

Ask the hero, ask the statesman, whose wisdom you have been 
accustomed to revere, and he will tell you. He will tell you, 
did I say ? He has already told you, from his death-bed, and 
his illumined spirit still whispers from the heavens, with well- 
known eloquence, the solemn admonition. 

" Mortals ! hastening to the tomb, and once the companions 
of my pilgrimage, take warning and avoid my errors — Culti- 
vate the virtues I have recommended — Choose the Saviour I 
have chosen — Live disinterestedly — Live for immortality ; and 
would you rescue anything from final dissolution, lay it up in 

God." Dr. Noit. 
♦ 

cxxxvn. , 

INVECTIVE AGAINST MR. FLOOD. 

TT is not the slander of an evil tongue that can defame me. 
"^ I maintain my reputation in public and in private life. No 
man who has not a bad character can ever say that I deceived ; 
no country can call me cheat. But I will suppose such a public 
character. I will suppose such a man to have existence. I will 
begin with his character in its political cradle, and I will follow 
him to the last state of political dissolution. I will suppose him, 
in the first stage of his life, to have been intemperate ; in the 
second, to have been corrupt ; and in the last, seditious ; that 
after an envenomed attack upon the persons and measures of a 
succession of viceroys, and after much declamation against their 
illegalities and their profusion, he took office, and became a sup- 
porter of government when the profusion of ministers had 
greatly increased, and their crimes multiplied beyond example. 
At such a critical moment, I will suppose this gentleman to be 
corrupted by a great sinecure office to muzzle his declamation, to 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 185 

swallow his invectives, to give his assent and vote to the minis- 
ters, and to become a supporter of government, its measures, its 
embargo, and its American war. I will suppose, that with re- 
spect to the Constitution of his country, that part, for instance, 
which regarded the Mutiny Bill, when a clause of reference was 
introduced, whereby the articles of war, which were, or hereafter 
might be, passed in England, should be current in Ireland with- 
out the interference of Parliament — when such a clause was in 
view, I will suppose this gentleman to have absconded. Again, 
when the bill was made perpetual, I will suppose him again to 
have ab.-conded ; but a year and a half after the bill had passed, 
then I will suppose this gentleman to have come forward, and to 
say that your Constitution had been destroyed by the Perpetual 
Bill. 

With respect to commerce, I will suppose this gentleman to 
have supported an embargo which lay on the country for three 
years, and almost destroyed it; and when an address in 1778, to 
open her trade, was propounded, to remain silent and inactive. 
In relation to three fourths of our fellow-subjects, the Catholics, 
when a bill was introduced to grant them rights of property and 
religion, I will suppose this gentleman to have come forth to 
give his negative to their pretensions. 

With regard to the liberties of America, which w r ere insepar- 
able from ours, I will suppose this gentleman to have been an 
enemy, decided and unreserved ; that he voted against hei* lib- 
erty, and voted, moreover, for an address to send four thousand 
Irish troops to cut the throats of the Americans ; that he called 
these butchers " armed negotiators," and stood with a metaphor 
in his mouth, and a bribe in his pocket, a champion against the 
rights of America, the only hope of Ireland, and the only refuge 
of the liberties of mankind. Thus defective in every relation- 
ship, whether to Constitution, commerce, or toleration, I will 
suppose this man to have added much private improbity to pub- 
lic crimes ; that his probity was like his patriotism, and his honor 
09 a level with his oath. 

He loves to deliver panegyrics on himself. I will interrupt 
him f and say, " Sir, you .are mistaken if you think that your 
talents have been as great as your life has been reprehensible. 
You began your parliamentary career with an acrimony and 



186 THE UNION SPEAKER, 

personality which could have been justified only by a supposi- 
tion of virtue. After a rank and clamorous opposition you 
became, on a sudden, silent ; you were silent for seven years ; 
you were silent on the greatest questions ; and you were silent 
for money ! You supported the unparalleled profusion and job- 
bing of Lord Harcourt's scandalous ministry — the address to 
support the American war — the other address to send four 
thousand men, which you had yourself declared to be necessary 
for the defence of Ireland, to fight against the liberties of Amer- 
ica, to which you had declared yourself a friend. You, sir, who 
manufacture stage-thunder against Mr. Eden for his and- Ameri- 
can principles — you, sir, whom it pleases to chant a hymn to 
the immortal Hampden — you, sir, approved of the tyranny 
exercised against America ; and you, sir, voted four thousand 
Irish troops to cut the throats of the Americans fighting for their 
freedom, fighting for your freedom, fighting for the great prin- 
ciple, Liberty ! But you found, at last (and this should be an 
eternal lesson to men of your craft and cunning), that the King 
had only dishonored you ; the court had bought, but would not 
trust you ; and, having voted for the worst measures, you re- 
mained, for seven year's, the creature of salary, without the con- 
fidence of government. Mortified at the discovery, and stung by 
disappointment, you betake yourself to the sad expedients of 
duplicity. You try the sorry game of a trimmer in your prog- 
ress-to the acts of an incendiary. You give no honest support 
either to the government or the people ; observing, with regard 
to both prince and people, the most impartial treachery and 
desertion, you justify the suspicion of your Sovereign, by betray- 
ing the government, as you had sold the people, until, at last, by 
this hollow conduct, and for some other steps, the result of mor- 
tified ambition, being dismissed, and another person put in your 
place, you fly to the ranks of the Volunteers and canvass for 
mutiny. 

Such has been your conduct ; and at such conduct every order 
of your fellow-subjects have a right to exclaim ! The merchMit 
may say to you — the constitutionalist may say to you — the 
American may say to you — and I, / now say, and say to your 
beard, sir, — " you are not an honest man I " n. Grattan. 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 187 

cxxxvm. 
GRATTAWS REPLY TO MR. CORRY. 

TTAS the gentleman done ? Has he completely done ? He 
-■—■- was unparliamentary from the beginning to the end of 
his speech. There was scarce a word he uttered that was not 
a violation of the privileges of the House. But I did not call 
him to order, — why ? because the limited talents of some men 
render it impossible for them to be severe without being unpar- 
liamentary. But before I sit down, I shall show him how to be 
severe and parliamentary at the same time. 

On any other occasion, I should think myself justifiable in 
treating with silent contempt anything which might fall from 
that honorable member ; but there are times, when the insignifi- 
cance of the accuser is lost in the magnitude of the accusation. 
I know the difficulty the honorable gentleman labored under 
when he attacked me, conscious that, on a comparative view of 
our characters, public and private, there is nothing he could 
say which would injure me. The public would not believe the 
charge. I despise the falsehood. If such a charge were made 
by an honest man, I would answer it in the manner I shall do 
before I sit down. But I shall first reply to it when not made 
by an honest man. 

The right honorable gentleman has called me u an unim- 
peached traitor." I ask why not " traitor," unqualified by any 
epithet ? I will tell him ; it was because he durst not. It was 
the act of a coward, who raises his arm to strike, but has not 
courage to give the blow. I will not call him villain, because it 
would be unparliamentary, and he is a privy counsellor. I will 
not call him fool, because he happens to be chancellor of the 
exchequer. But I say, he is one who has abused the privilege 
of Parliament, and the freedom of debate, by uttering language, 
which, if spoken out of the House, I should answer only with a 
blow. I care not how high his situation, how low his character, 
how contemptible his speech ; whether a privy counsellor or a 
parasite, my answer would be a blow. 

He has charged me with being connected with the rebels. 
The charge is utterly, totally, and meanly false. Does the 



188 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

honorable gentleman rely on the report of the House of Lords for 
the foundation of his assertion ? If he does, I can prove to the 
committee there was a physical impossibility of that report being 
true. But I scorn to answer any man for my conduct, whether 
he be a political coxcomb, or whether he brought himself into 
power by a false glare of courage or not. 

I have returned, not as the right honorable member has said, 
to raise another storm — I have returned to discharge an hon- 
orable debt of gratitude to my country, that conferred a great 
reward for past services, which, I am proud to say, was not 
greater than my desert. I have returned to protect that Consti- 
tution, of which I was the parent and founder, from the assas- 
sination of such men as the right honorable gentleman and his 
unworthy associates. They are corrupt, — they are seditious, — 
and they, at this very moment, are in a conspiracy against their 
country. I have returned to refute a libel, as false as it is 
malicious, given to the public under the appellation of a report 
of the committee of the Lords. Here I stand ready for impeach- 
ment or trial. I dare accusation. I defy the honorable gentle- 
man ; I defy the government ; I defy their whole phalanx ; let 
them come forth. I tell the ministers, I will neither give quar- 
ter nor take it. I am here to lay the shattered remains of my 
constitution on the floor of this House, in defence of the liberties 
of my country. 



cxxxrx. 
SPEECH OF TITUS QOINCTIUS TO THE ROMANS. 

"VTOU have seen it — posterity will know it ! in the fourth 
consulship of Titus Quinctius, our enemies came in arms, 
to the very gates of Rome, — and went away unchastised ! But 
who are they that our dastardly enemies thus despise ? — the 
consuls, or you, Romans ? If we are in fault, depose us, or pun- 
ish us yet more severely. If you are to blame — may neither 
gods nor men punish your faults ! only may you repent ! — No, 
Romans, the confidence of our enemies is not owing to their 
courage, or to their belief of your cowardice : they have been too 
often vanquished, not to know both themselves and you. Dis- 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 189 

cord, discord is the ruin of this city ! The eternal disputes, 
between the senate and the people, are the sole cause of our 
misfortunes. While we set no bounds to our dominion, nor you 
to your liberty ; while you impatiently endure Patrician magis- 
trates, and we Plebeian ; our enemies take heart, grow elated, 
and presumptuous. In the name of the immortal gods, what is 
it, Romans, you would have ? You desired Tribunes ; for the 
sake of peace, we granted them. You were eager to have 
Decemvirs ; we consented to their creation. You grew weary 
of these Decemvirs ; we obliged them to abdicate. Your hatred 
pursued them when reduced to private men ; and we suffered 
you to put to death, or banish, Patricians of the first rank in the 
republic. You insisted upon the restoration of the Tribuneship ; 
we yielded ; we quietly saw Consuls of your own faction elected. 
You have the protection of your Tribunes, and the privilege of 
appeal ; the Patricians are subjected to the decrees of the Com- 
mons. Under pretence of equal and impartial laws, you have 
invaded our rights ; and we have suffered it, and we still suffer 
it. When shall we see an end of discord ? When shall we 
have one interest, and one common country ? Victorious and 
triumphant, you show less temper than we, under defeat. When 
you are to contend with us, you can seize the Aventine hill, you 
can possess yourselves of the Mons Sacer. 

The enemy is at our gates, — the JEsquiline is near being 
taken, — and nobody stirs to hinder it ! But against us you are 
valiant, against us you can arm with diligence. Come on, then, 
besiege the senate-hi>use, make a camp of the forum, fill the jails 
with our chief nobles, and when you have achieved these glori- 
ous exploits, then, at last, sally out at the JEsquiline gate, with 
the same fierce spirits, against the enemy. Does your resolution 
fail you for this ? Go then, and behold from our walls your 
lands ravaged, your houses plundered and in flames, the whole 
country laid waste with fire and sword. Have you anything 
here to repair these damages ? Will the Tribunes make up 
your losses to you ? They will give you words as many as you 
please; bring impeachments in abundance against the prime 
men in the State ; heap laws upon laws ; assemblies you shall 
have without end ; but will any of you return the richer from 
those assemblies ? Extinguish, O Romans, these fatal divisions ; 



190 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

generously break this cursed enchantment, which keeps you 
buried in a scandalous inaction. Open your eyes, and consider 
the management of those ambitious men, who, to make themselves 
powerful in their party, study nothing but how they may foment 
divisions in the commonwealth. 



CXL. 
THE BOSTON MASSACRE. 

r I ^ELL me, ye bloody butchers ! ye villains high and low ! ye 
wretches who contrived, as well as you who executed, the 
inhuman deed ! do you not feel the goads and stings of conscious 
guilt pierce through your savage bosoms ? Though some of you 
may think yourselves exalted to such a height that bids defiance 
to the arms of human justice, and others shroud yourselves 
beneath the mask of hypocrisy, and build your hopes of safety 
on the low arts of cunning, chicanery, and falsehood ; yet do you 
not sometimes feel the gnawings of that worm which never dies ? 
Do not the injured shades of Maverick, Gray, Caldwell, Attucks, 
and Carr, attend you in your solitary walks, arrest you even in 
the midst of your debaucheries, and fill even your dreams with 
terror ? 

Ye dark, designing knaves ! ye murderers ! parricides ! how 
dare you tread upon the earth which has drank in the blood of 
slaughtered innocents, shed by your wicked* hands ? How dare 
you breathe that air which wafted to the ear of Heaven the 
groans of those who fell a sacrifice to your accursed ambition ? 
But, if the laboring earth does not expand her jaws ; if the air 
you breathe is not commissioned to be the minister of death ; 
yet hear it, and tremble ! the eye of Heaven penetrates the 
darkest chambers of the soul ; traces the leading clew through 
all the labyrinths which your industrious folly has devised ; and 
you, however you may have screened yourselves from human 
eyes, must be arraigned, must lift your hands, red with the 
blood of those whose deaths you have procured, at the tremen- 
dous bar of God. John Hancock. 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 191 

CXLI. 

ENTERPRISE OF NEW ENGLAND. 

A S to the wealth, Mr. Speaker, which the colonies have 
**-*- drawn from the sea by their fisheries, you had all that 
matter fully opened at your bar. You surely thought those 
acquisitions of value ; for they seemed even to excite your 
envy ; and yet the spirit by which that enterprising employment 
has been exercised, ought rather, in my opinion, to have raised 
your esteem and admiration. And pray, sir, what in the world 
is equal to it ? Pass by the other parts, and look at the man- 
ner in which the people of New England have of late carried on 
the whale fishery. Whilst we follow them among the tumbling 
mountains of ice, and behold them penetrating into the deepest 
frozen recesses of Hudson's Bay and Davis's Straits, whilst we 
are looking for them beneath the arctic circle, we hear that they 
have pierced into the opposite region of polar cold, that they are 
at the antipodes, and engaged under the frozen serpent of the 
south. Falkland Island, which seemed too remote and romantic 
an object for the grasp of national ambition, is but a stage and 
resting-place in the progress of their victorious industry. 

Nor is the equinoctial heat more discouraging to them than 
the accumulated winter of both the poles. We know that whilst 
some of them draw the line and strike the harpoon on the coast 
of Africa, others run the longitude, and pursue their gigantic 
game along the coast of Brazil. No sea but what is vexed by 
their fisheries. No climate that is not witness to their toils. 
Neither the perseverance of Holland, nor the activity of France, 
nor the dexterous and firm sagactity of English enterprise, ever 
carried this most perilous mode of hardy industry to the extent 
to which it has been pushed by this recent people ; a people who 
are still, as it were, but in the gristle, and not yet hardened into 
the bone of manhood. 

When I contemplate these things ; when I know that the 
colonies in general owe little or nothing to any care of ours, and 
that they are not squeezed into this happy form by the con- 
straints of watchful and suspicious government, but that through 
a wise and salutary neglect, a generous nature has been suffered 



192 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

to take her own way to perfection ; when I reflect upon these 
effects, when I see how profitable they have been to us, I feel all 
the pride of power sink, and all presumption in the wisdom of 
human contrivances melt and die away within me. My rigor 
relents. I pardon something to the spirit of liberty. 

E. Burke. 



B 



CXLII. 
THE RIGHT OF ENGLAND TO TAX AMERICA. 
UT, Mr. Speaker, " we have a right to tax America." Oh, 
inestimable right ! Oh, wonderful, transcendent right ! the 
assertion of which has cost this country thirteen provinces, six isl- 
ands, one hundred thousand lives, and seventy millions of money. 
Oh, invaluable right ! for the sake of which we have sacrificed 
our rank among nations, our importance abroad, and our happi- 
ness at home ! Oh, right ! more dear to us than our existence^, 
which has already cost us so much, and which seems likely to 
cost us our all. Infatuated man ! Miserable and undone 
country ! not to know that the claim of right, without the power 
of enforcing it, is nugatory and idle. We have a right to tax 
America, the noble lord tells us, therefore we ought to tax 
America. This is the profound logic which comprises the whole 
chain of his reasoning. 

Not inferior to this was the wisdom of him who resolved to 
shear the wolf. What, shear a wolf ! Have you considered the 
resistance, the difficulty, the danger of the attempt ? No, says 
the madman, I have considered nothing but the right. Man has 
a right of dominion over the beasts of the forest ; and therefore I 
will shear the wolf. 

How wonderful that a nation could be thus deluded ! But 
the noble lord deals in cheats and delusions. They are the 
daily traffic of his invention ; and he will continue to play off 
his cheats on this House, so long as he thinks them necessary to 
his purpose, and so long as he has money enough at command to 
bribe gentlemen to pretend that they believe him. But a black 
and bitter day of reckoning will surely come ; and whenever 
that day comes, I trust I shall be able, by a parliamentary im- 
peachment, to bring upon the heads of the authors of our calami- 
ties the punishment they deserve. e. Burke. 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 193 

cxLin. 

DESCRIPTION OF JUNIUS. 

O IR, — How comes this Junius to have broken through the 
^ cobwebs of the law, and to range uncontrolled, unpunished, 
through the land ? The myrmidons of the court have been long, 
and are still pursuing him in vain. They will not spend their 
time upon me, or you, or you. No ! they disdain such vermin, 
when the mighty boar of the forest, that has broken through all 
their toils, is before them. But what will all their efforts avail ? 
No sooner has he wounded one than he lays down another dead 
at his feet. For- my part, when I saw his attack upon the king, 
I own my blood ran cold. I thought he had ventured too far, 
and there was an end of his triumphs. Not that he had not 
asserted many truths : — Yes, sir, there are in that composition 
many bold truths, by which a wise prince might profit. It was 
the rancor and venom, with which I was struck. In these 
respects the North- Briton is as much inferior to him, as in 
strength, wit, and judgment. 

But while I expected, in this daring flight, his final ruin and 
fall, behold him rising still higher, and coming down souse upon 
both Houses of Parliament. Yes, he did make you his quarry, 
and you still bleed from the wounds of his talons. You crouched, 
and still crouch, beneath his rage. Nor has he dreaded the ter- 
rors of your brow, sir ; he has attacked even you — he has — 
and I believe you have no reason to triumph in the encounter. 
In short, after carrying away our royal eagle in his pounces, and 
dashing him against a rock, he has laid you prostrate. King, 
lords, and commons, are but the sport of his fury. 

Were he a member of this House, what might not be expected 
from his knowledge, his firmness, and integrity ? He would be 
easily known by his contempt of all danger, by his penetration, 
by his vigor. Nothing would escape his vigilance and activity. 
Bad ministers could conceal nothing from his sagacity ; nor 
could promises nor threats induce him to conceal anything from 

the public. E. Burke. 

13 



194 THE UNION SPEAKER. 



CXLIV. 

TRUE STATESMANSHIP. 

HPHE true lawgiver ought to have a heart full of sensibility. 
He ought to love and respect his kind, and to fear himself. 
It may be allowed to his temperament to catch his ultimate 
object with an intuitive glance, but his movements toward it 
ought to be deliberate. Political arrangement, as it is a work 
for social ends, is to be wrought only by social means. There 
mind must conspire with mind. Time is required to produce all 
the good we aim at. Our patience will achieve more than our 
force. If I might venture to appeal to what is so much out of 
fashion in Paris, I mean to experience, I should tell you that in 
my course I have known, and, according to my measure, have 
cooperated with great men ; and I have never yet seen any 
plan which has not been mended by the observations of those 
who were much inferior in understanding to the person who took 
the lead in business. By a slow but well-sustained progress the 
effect of each step is watched ; the good or ill success of the first 
gives light to us in the second ; and so, from light to light, we 
are conducted with safety through the whole series. We see 
that the parts of the system do not clash. The evils latent in 
the most promising contrivances are provided for as they arise. 
One advantage is as little as possible sacrificed to another. We ; 
compensate, we reconcile, we balance. We are enabled to unite 
into a consistent whole the various anomalies and contending 
principles that are found in the minds and affairs of men. From ; 
hence arises not an excellence in simplicity, but one far superior, 
an excellence in composition. Where the great interests of man- i 
kind are concerned through a long succession of generations, that | 
succession ought to be admitted into some share in the councils 
which are so deeply to affect them. If justice requires this, the 
work itself requires the aid of more minds than one age can l 
furnish. It is from this view of things that the best legislators 
have been often satisfied with the establishment of some sure, 
solid, and ruling principle in government ; a power like that 
which some of the philosophers have called a plastic nature ; and 
having fixed the principle, they have left it afterward to its own 
operation, •£• Burke. 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 195 

CXLV. 
THE QUEEN OF FRANCE AND THE SPIRIT OF CHIVALRY. 

T HEAR, and I rejoice to hear, that the great lady, the other 
object of the triumph, has borne that day (one is interested 
that beings made for suffering should suffer well), and that she 
bears all the succeeding days — that she bears the imprisonment 
of her husband, and her own captivity, and the exile of her 
friends, and the insulting adulation of addresses, and the whole 
weight of her accumulated wrongs, with a serene patience, in a 
manner suited to her rank and race and becoming the offspring 
of a sovereign distinguished for her piety and her courage ; that, 
like her, she has lofty sentiments ; that she feels with the dignity 
of a Roman matron ; that in the last extremity she will save 
herself; and that, if she must fall, she will fall by no ignoble 
hand. 

It is now sixteen or seventeen years since I saw the Queen of 
France, then the dauphiness, at Versailles; and surely never 
lighted on this orb, which she hardly seemed to touch, a more 
delightful vision. I saw her just above the horizon, decorating 
and cheering the elevated sphere she just began to move in, 
glittering like the morning star, full of life and splendor and joy. 
Oh ! what a revolution ! and what a heart must I have, to con- 
template, without emotion, that elevation and that fall ! Little 
did I dream, when she added titles of veneration to those of 
enthusiastic, distant, respectful love, that she should ever be 
obliged to carry the sharp antidote against disgrace concealed in 
that bosom ; little did I dream that I should have lived to see 
such disasters fallen upon her in a nation of gallant men, in a 
nation of men of honor and of cavaliers. I thought ten thousand 
swords must have leaped from their scabbards to avenge even a 
look that threatened her with insult ? But the age of chivalry 
is gone ; that of sophisters, economists and calculators has suc- 
ceeded ; and the glory of Europe is extinguished forever. Never, 
never more shall we behold that generous loyalty to rank and 
sex, that proud submission, that dignified obedience, that subordi- 
nation of the heart, which kept alive, even in servitude itself, the 
spirit of an exalted freedom. 



196 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

The unbought grace of life, the cheap defence of nations, the 
nurse of manly sentiment and heroic enterprise is gone ! It is 
gone, that sensibility of principle, that chastity of honor, which • 
felt a stain like a wound, which inspired courage while it miti- 
gated ferocity, which ennobled whatever it touched, and under 
which vice itself lost half its evil by losing all its grossness. 

E. Burke. 



CXLVI. 
PERORATION OF OPENING SPEECH AGAINST HASTINGS. 

TN the name of the Commons of England, I charge all this 
-*■ villany upon Warren Hastings, in this last moment of my 
application to you. 

My Lords, what is it that we want here to a great act of 
national justice ? Do we want a cause, my Lords ? You have 
the cause of oppressed princes, of undone women of the first rank, 
of desolated provinces, and of wasted kingdoms. 

Do you want a criminal, my Lords ? "When was there so 
much iniquity ever laid to the charge of any one? No, my 
Lords, you must not look to punish any other such delinquent 
from India. Warren Hastings has not left substance enough in 
India to nourish such another delinquent. 

My Lords, is it a prosecutor you want ? You have before you 
the Commons of Great Britain as prosecutors ; and I believe, 
my Lords, that the sun, in his beneficent progress round the 
world, does not behold a more glorious sight than that of men, 
separated from a remote people by the material bounds and 
barriers of nature, united by the bond of a social and moral 
community — all the Commons of England resenting, as their 
own, the indignities and cruelties, that are offered to all the 
people of India. 

Do we want a tribunal ? My Lords, no example of antiquity, 
nothing in the modern world, nothing in the range of human 
imagination, can supply us with a tribunal like this. My Lords, 
here we see virtually, in the mind's eye, that sacred majesty of 
the Crown, under whose authority you sit and whose power you 
exercise. 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 197 

We have here all the branches of the royal family, in a situa- 
tion between majesty and subjection, between the sovereign and 
the subject — offering a pledge, in that situation, for the support 
of the rights of the Crown and the liberties of the people, both 
which extremities they touch. 

My Lords, we have a great hereditary peerage here ; those 
who have their own honor, the honor of their ancestors, and of 
their posterity, to guard, and who will justify, as they always 
have justified, that provision in the Constitution by which justice 
is made an hereditary office. 

My Lords, we have here a new nobility, who have risen, and 
exalted themselves by various merits, by great civil and military 
services, which have extended the fame of this country from the 
rising to the setting sun. 

My Lords, you have here, also, the lights of our religion ; you 
have the bishops of England. My Lords, you have that true 
image of the primitive Church in its ancient form, in its ancient 
ordinances, purified from the superstitions and the vices which a 
long succession of ages will bring upon the best institutions. 

My Lords, these are the securities which we have in all the 
constituent parts of the body of this House. We know them, 
we reckon, we rest upon them, and commit safely the interests 
of India and of humanity into your hands. Therefore, it is with 
confidence, that, ordered by the Commons, 

I impeach Warren Hastings, Esquire, of high crimes and 
misdemeanors. 

I impeach him in the name of the Commons of Great Britain, 
in Parliament assembled, whose parliamentary trust he has 
betrayed. 

I impeach him in the name of all the Commons of Great 
Britain, whose national character he has dishonored. 

I impeach him in the name of the people of India, whose laws, 
rights, and liberties he has subverted, whose property he has 
destroyed, whose country he has laid waste and desolate. 

I impeach him in the name, and by virtue of those eternal 
laws of justice which he has violated. 

I impeach him in the name of human nature itself, which he 
has cruelly outraged, injured and oppressed, in both sexes, in 
every age, rank, situation and condition of life. e. Burke. 



198 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

CXLTH. 

PERORATION OF CLOSING SPEECH AGAINST HASTINGS. 

"\/T ^ Lords, at this awful close, in the name of the Commons, 
-*-*-*- and surrounded by them, I attest the retiring, I attest the 
advancing generations, between which, as a link in the great chain 
of eternal order, we standi. — We call this Nation, we call the 
world to witness, that the Commons have shrunk from no labor ; 
that we have been guilty of no prevarication, that we have made 
no compromise with crime ; that we have not feared any odium 
whatsoever, in the long warfare which we have carried on with 
the crimes — with the vices — with the exorbitant wealth — 
■with the enormous and overpowering influence of Eastern cor- 
ruption. 

My Lords, your House yet stands ; it stands as a great edifice ; 
but let me say, that it stands in ruins that have been made by 
the greatest moral earthquake that ever convulsed and shattered 
this globe of ours. My Lords, it has pleased Providence to place 
us in such a state that Ave appear every moment to be on the 
verge of some great mutations. There is one thing, and one 
thing only, which defies all mutation ; that which" existed before 
the world, and will survive the fabric of the world itself, — I 
mean justice ; that justice which, emanating from the Divinity, 
has a place in the breast of every one of us, given us for our 
guide in regard to ourselves, and with regard to others, and which 
will stand, after this globe is burned to ashes, our advocate or 
our accuser before the great Judge, when He comes to call upon 
us for the tenor of a well-spent life. 

My Lords, the Commons will share in every fate with your 
Lordships ; there is nothing sinister which can happen to you, in 
which we shall not be involved ; and, if it should so happen, that 
we shall be subjected to some of those frightful changes which 
we have seen ; if it should happen that your Lordships, stripped 
of all the decorous distinctions of human society, should, by hands 
at once base and cruel, be led to those scaffolds and machines of 
murder upon which great kings and glorious queens have shed 
their blood, amidst the prelates, amidst the nobles, amidst the 
magistrates, who supported their thrones, — may you in those 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 199 

moments feel that consolation which I am persuaded they felt in 
the critical moments of their dreadful agony J 

My Lords, there is a consolation, and a great consolation it is, 
which often happens to oppressed virtue and fallen dignity ; it 
often happens that the very oppressors and persecutors them- 
selves are forced to bear testimony in its favor. The Parliament 
of Paris had an origin very, very similar to that of the great 
court before which I stand ; the Parliament of Paris continued 
to have a great resemblance to it in its Constitution, even to its 
fall ; the Parliament of Paris, my Lords, — was ; it is gone ! It 
has passed away ; it has vanished like a dream ! It fell pierced 
by the sword of the Compte de Mirabeau. And yet that man, 
at the time of his inflicting the death-wound of that Parliament, 
produced at once the shortest and the grandest funeral oration 
that ever was or could be made upon the departure of a great 
court of magistracy. When he pronounced the death sentence 
upon that Parliament, and inflicted the mortal wound, he de- 
clared that his motives for doing it were merely political, and 
that their hands were as pure as those of justice itself, which 
they administered — a great and glorious exit, my Lords, of a 
great and glorious body ! 

My Lords, if you must fall, may you so fall ! But, if you 
stand, and stand I trust you will, together with the fortunes of 
this ancient monarchy — together with the ancient laws and 
liberties of this great and illustrious kingdom, may you stand as 
unimpeached in honor as in power ; may you stand, not as a 
substitute for virtue, but as an ornament of virtue, as a security 
for virtue ; may you stand long, and long stand the terror of 
tyrants ; may you stand the refuge of afflicted Nations ; may you 
stand a sacred temple, for the perpetual residence of an in- 
violable justice ! E. Burhe. 

♦ 

CXLVIII. 
THE CRISIS OF THE NATION. 

T AY hold on this opportunity of our salvation, Conscript 
*^ Fathers, — by the Immortal Gods I conjure you ! — and 
remember that you are the foremost men here, in the council 
chamber of the whole earth. Give one sign to the Roman peo- 



200 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

pie that even as now they pledge their valor — so you pledge 
your wisdom to the crisis of the State. But what need that I 
exhort you ? Is there one so insensate as not to understand that 
if we sleep over an occasion such as this, it is ours to bow our 
necks to a tyranny not proud and cruel only, but ignominious — 
but sinful ? Do ye not know this Antony ? Do ye not know 
his companions ? Do ye not know his whole house — insolent 
— impure — gamesters — drunkards ? To be slaves to such as 
he, to such as these, were if not the fullest measure of misery, 
conjoined with the fullest measure of disgrace ? If it be so — 
may the gods avert the omen — that the supreme hour of the 
republic has come, let us, the rulers of the world, rather fall 
with honor, than serve with infamy ! Born to glory and to lib- 
erty, let us hold these bright distinctions fnst, or let us greatly 
die ! Be it, Romans, our first resolve to strike down the tyrant 
and the tyranny. Be it our second to endure all things for the 
honor and liberty of our country. To submit to infamy for the 
love of life can never come within the contemplation of a Roman 
soul ! For you, the people of Rome — you whom the gods have 
appointed to rule the world — for you to own a master, is im- 
pious. 

You are in the last crisis of nations. To be free or to be 
slaves — that is the question of the hour. By every obligation 
of man or States it behooves you in this extremity to conquer — 
as your devotion to the gods and your concord among your- 
selves encourage you to hope — or to bear all things but slavery. 
Other nations may bend to servitude ; the birthright and the dis- 
tinction of the people of Rome is liberty. Cicero. 



CXLIX. 
EXTRACT FROM DEMOSTBENES. 

"V7"ES, Athenians, I repeat it, you yourselves are the contrivers I 
of your own ruin. Lives there a man who has confidence |a 
enough to deny it ? Let him arise, and assign, if he can, any 
other cause of the success and prosperity of Philip. " But," . 
you reply, " what Athens may have lost in reputation abroad, 
she has gained in splendor at home. Was there ever a greater 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 201 

appearance of prosperity ? a greater face of plenty ? Ts not the 
city enlarged? Are not the streets better paved, houses re- 
paired and beautified ? " Away with such trifles ! Shall I be 
paid with counters ? An old square new vamped up ! a fountain ! 
an aqueduct ! are these acquisitions to brag of? Cast your eye 
upon the magistrate under whose ministry you boast these pre- 
cious improvements. Behold the despicable creature, raised all 
at once from dirt to opulence ; from the lowest obscurity to the 
highest honors. Have not some of these upstarts built private 
houses and seats, vying with the most sumptuous of our public 
palaces ? And how have their fortunes and their power in- 
creased, but as the commonwealth has been ruined and impover- 
ished ? 

To what are we to impute these disorders, and to what cause 
assign the decay of a State so powerful and flourishing in past 
times ? The reason is plain. The servant is now become the 
master. The magistrate, was then subservient to the people : all 
honors, dignities, and preferments, were disposed by the voice 
and favor of the people ; but the magistrate, now, has usurped 
the right of the people, and exercises an arbitrary authority over 
his ancient and natural lord. You, miserable people ! the mean- 
while, without money, without friends, — from being the ruler, 
are become the servant ; from being the master, the dependent : 
happy that these governors, into whose hands you have thus 
resigned your own power, are so good and so gracious as to con- 
tinue your poor allowance to see plays. 

Believe me, Athenians, if, recovering from this lethargy, you 
woidd assume the ancient spirit and freedom of your fathers — 
if you would be your own soldiers and own commanders, confid- 
ing no longer your affairs in foreign or mercenary hands — if 
you would charge yourselves with your own defence, employing 
abroad, for the public, what you w r aste in unprofitable pleasures 
at home, — the world might once more behold you making a 
figure worthy of Athenians. " You would have us, then, (you 
say,) do service in our armies in our own persons ; and, for so 
doing, you would have the pensions we receive in time of peace, 
accepted as pay in time of war. Is it thus we are to understand 
you ? " Yes, Athenians, 't is my plain meaning. I would make 
it a standing rule, that no person, great or little, should be the 



202 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

better for the public money, who would grudge to employ it for 
the public service. Are we in peace ? the public is charged with 
your subsistence. Are we in war, or under a necessity, as at 
this time, to enter into a war ? let your gratitude oblige you to 
accept, as pay in defence of your benefactors, what you receive, 
in peace, as mere bounty. Thus, without any innovation — 
without altering or abolishing anything but pernicious novelties, 
introduced for the encouragement of sloth and idleness — by 
converting only for the future, the same funds, for the use of the 
serviceable, which are spent, at present, upon the unprofitable, 
you may be well served in your armies — your troops regularly 
paid — justice duly administered — the public revenues reformed 
and increased — and every member of the commonwealth ren- 
dered useful to his country according to his age and ability, with- 
out any further burden to the State. 

This, O men of Athens, is what my duty prompted me to 
represent to you upon this occasion. — May the gods inspire, you 
to determine upon such measures, as may be most expedient, for 
the particular and general good of our country ! 



CL. 
EXTRACT FROM DEMOSTHENES ON TEE CROWN. 

A THENS never was once known to live in a slavish, though 
-*^~ a secure obedience to unjust and arbitrary power. No ; our 
whole history is one series of noble contests for preeminence; 
the whole period of our existence hath been spent in braving 
dangers, for the sake of glory and renown. And so highly do 
you esteem such conduct, so consonant to the Athenian charac- 
ter, that those of your ancestors who were most distinguished in 
the pursuit of it, are ever the most favorite objects of your 
praise — and with reason. For who can reflect without aston- 
ishment upon the magnanimity of those men, who resigned their 
lands, gave up their city and embarked in their ships, to avoid 
the odious state of subjection? — who chose Themistocles, the 
adviser of this conduct, to command their forces ; and, when 
Cyrsilus proposed that they should yield to the terms prescribed, 
stoned him to death ? Nay, the public indignation was not yet 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 203 

allayed. Your very wives inflicted the same vengeance on his 
wife. For the Athenians of that clay looked out for no speaker, 
no general to procure them a state of prosperous slavery. They 
had the spirit to reject even life, unless they were allowed to 
enjoy that life in freedom. Should I then attempt to assert that 
it was I who inspired you with sentiments worthy of your an- 
cestors, 1 should meet the just resentment of every hearer. No ; 
it is my point to show, that such sentiments are properly your 
own — that they were the sentiments of my country, long before 
my days. I claim but my share of merit, in having acted on 
such principles, in every part of my administration. He, then, 
who condemns every part of my administration, he who directs 
you to treat me with severity, as one who hath involved the State 
in terrors and dangers, while he labors to deprive me of present 
honor, robs you of the applause of all posterity. For, if you 
now pronounce, that, as my public conduct hath not been right, 
Ctesiphon must stand condemned, it must be thought that you 
yourselves have acted wrong, not that you owe your present 
state to the caprice of fortune. But it cannot be ! No, my 
countrymen ! it cannot be you have acted wrong, in encountering 
danger bravely, for the liberty and the safety of all Greece. 
No ! by those generous souls of ancient times, w T ho were exposed 
at Marathon ! By those who stood arrayed at Platasa ! By 
those who encountered the Persian fleet at Salamis ! Who 
fought at Artemisium ! No ! by all those illustrious sons of 
Athens, whose remains lie deposited in the public monuments. 



CLI. 

QUEEN ELIZABETH. 

rpHE reign of Queen Elizabeth may be considered as the 
opening of the modern history of England, especially in 
its connection with the modern system of Europe, which began 
about that time to assume the form that it preserved till the 
French Revolution. It was a very memorable period, of which 
the maxims ought to be engraven on the head and heart of every 
Englishman. Philip the Second, at the head of the greatest em- 
pire then in the world, openly was aiming at universal domination. 



204 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

To the most extensive and opulent dominions, the most numer- 
ous and disciplined armies, the most renowned captains, the 
greatest revenue, he added also the most formidable power over 
opinion. Elizabeth was among the first objects of his hostility. 
That wise and magnanimous princess placed herself in the 
front of the battle for the liberties of Europe. Though she 
had to contend at home with his fanatical faction, which almost 
occupied Ireland, which divided Scotland, and was not of con- 
temptible strength in England, she aided the oppressed inhabi- 
tants of the Netherlands in their just and glorious resistance 
to his tyranny ; she aided Henry the Great in suppressing the 
abominable rebellion which anarchical principles had excited and 
Spanish arms had supported in France, and after a long reign of 
various fortune, in which she preserved her unconquered spirit 
through great calamities and still greater dangers, she at length 
broke the strength of the enemy, and reduced his power within 
such limits as to be compatible with the safety of England and 
of all Europe. Her great heart inspired her with a higher and a 
nobler wisdom — which disdained to appeal to the low and sor- 
did passions of her people even for the protection of their low 
and sordid interests, because she knew, or, rather, she felt that 
there are effeminate, creeping, cowardly, short-sighted passions, 
which shrink from conflict, even in defence of their own mean 
objects. In a righteous cause she roused those generous affec- 
tions of her people, which alone teach boldness, constancy, and 
foresight, and which are therefore the only safe guardians of the 
lowest as well as the highest interests of a nation. In her mem- 
orable address to the army, when the invasion of her kingdom 
was threatened by Spain, this woman of heroic spirit disdained 
to speak to them of their ease and their commerce, and their 
wealth and their safety. No ! She touched another chord — she 
spoke of their national honor, of their dignity as Englishmen, 
of " the foul scorn that Parma or Spain should dare to invade 
the borders of her realms." She breathed into them those grand 
and powerful sentiments, which exalt vulgar men into heroes, 
which led them into the battle of their country, armed with holy 
and irresistible enthusiasm ; which ever cover with their shield 
all the ignoble interests that base calculation, and cowardly self- 
ishness tremble to hazard, but shrink from defending. 

J. Mackintosh. 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. * 205 

CLII. 
THE FREE PRESS. 

f~^ ENTLEMEN, there is one point of view in which this 
^-^ case seems to merit your most serious attention. The real 
prosecutor is the master of the greatest empire the world ever 
saw ; the defendant is a defenceless, proscribed exile. I consider 
this case, therefore, as the first of a long series of conflicts be- 
tween the greatest power in the world and the only Free Press 
remaining in Europe. Gentlemen, this distinction of the Eng- 
lish Press is new — it is a proud and melancholy distinction. 
Before the great earthquake of the French Revolution had swal- 
lowed up all the asylums of free discussion on the Continent, we 
enjoyed that privilege, indeed, more fully than others ; but we did 
not enjoy it exclusively. It existed, in fact, where it was not 
protected by law ; and the wise and generous connivance of gov- 
ernments was daily more and more secured by the growing civil- 
ization of their subjects. In Holland, in Switzerland, in the im- 
perial towns of Germany, the press was either legally or practi- 
cally free. Holland and Switzerland are no more ; and, since 
the commencement of this prosecution, fifty imperial towns have 
been erased from the list of independent States by one dash of 
the pen. Three or four still preserve a precarious and trembling 
existence. I will not say by what compliances they must pur- 
chase its continuance. I will not insult the feebleness of States, 
whose unmerited fall I do most bitterly deplore. 

One asylum of free discussion is still inviolate. There is still 
one spot in Europe where man can fully exercise his reason on 
the most important concerns of society, where he can boldly pub- 
lish his judgment on the acts of the proudest and most powerful 
tyrants. The Press of England is still free. It is guarded by the 
free Constitution of our forefathers. It is guarded by the hearts 
and arms of Englishmen ; and, I trust I may venture to say that 
if it be to fall, it will fall only under the ruins of the British 
Empire. It is an awful consideration, gentlemen. Every other 
monument of European liberty has perished. That ancient 
fabric which has been gradually raided by the wisdom and vir- 
tues of our fathers still stands. It stands, thanks be to God ! 
solid and entire — but it stands alone, and it stands amid ruins. 
Believing, then, as I do, that we are on the eve of a great strug- 



206 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

gle — that this is only the first of a long series of conflicts be- 
tween reason and power — that you have now in your hands 
committed to your trust, the protection of the only Free Press 
remaining in Europe, now confined to this kingdom ; and ad- 
dressing you therefore as the guardians of the most important 
interests of mankind — convinced that the unfettered exercise of 
reason depends more on your present verdict than on any other 
that was ever delivered by a jury, — I trust I may rely with 
confidence on the issue — I trust that you will consider your- 
selves as the advanced guard of Liberty — as having this day to 
fight the first battle of free discussion against the most formid- 
able enemy that it ever encountered ! j. Mackintosh. 



cxm. 
THE LIBERTY OF THE PRESS. 

HHHE liberty of the press, on general subjects, comprehends 
•*■ and implies as much strict observance of positive law as is 
consistent with perfect purity of intention, and equal and useful 
society. What that latitude is, cannot be promulgated in the 
abstract, but must be judged in the particular instance, and con- 
sequently, upon this occasion, must be judged of by you, without 
forming any possible precedent for any other case. 

If, gentlemen, you are firmly persuaded of the singleness and 
purity of the author's intentions, you are not bound to subject 
him to infamy, because in the zealous career of a just and ani- 
mated composition, he happens to have tripped with his pen into 
an intemperate expression in one or two instances of a long 
work. If this severe duty were binding on your conscience, the 
liberty of the press would be an empty sound, and no man could 
venture to write on any subject, however pure his purpose, with- 
out an attorney at one elbow and a counsel at the other. 

From minds thus subdued by the terrors of punishment, there 
could issue no works of genius to expand the empire of human 
reason, nor any masterly compositions on the general nature of 
government, by the help of which the great commonwealths of 
mankind have founded their establishments ; much less any of 
those useful applications of them to critical conjunctures, by 
which, from time to time, our own Constitution, by the exertion 
of patriot citizens, has been brought back to its standard. Under 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 207 

such terrors, all the great lights of science and civilization must 
be extinguished ; for men cannot communicate their free thoughts 
to one another with a lash held over their heads. It is the 
nature of everything that is great and useful, both in the ani- 
mate and inanimate world, to be wild and irregular, and we must 
be contented to take them with the alloys which belong to them, 
or live without them. Genius breaks from the fetters of criti- 
cism, but its wanderings are sanctioned by its majesty and wis- 
dom when it advances in its path : subject it to the critic, and 
you tame it into dulness. Mighty rivers break down their banks 
in the winter, sweeping away to death the flocks which are fat- 
tened on the soil that they fertilize in the summer : the few may 
be saved by embankments from drowning, but the flock must 
perish for hunger. Tempests occasionally shake our dwellings 
and dissipate our commerce ; but they scourge before them the 
lazy elements, which without them would stagnate into pestilence. 
In like manner, Liberty herself, the last and best gift of God to 
his creatures, must be taken just as she is : you inight pare her 
down into bashful regularity, and shape her into a perfect model 
of severe, scrupulous law, but she would then be Liberty no 
longer ; and you must be content to die under the lash of this 
inexorable justice which you had exchanged for the banners of 
Freedom. Lord ErsUne. 



CLTV. 
BRITISH TYRANNY IN INDIA. 

I" AM driven in the defence of my client, to remark, that it is 
mad and preposterous to bring to the standard of justice and 
humanity the exercise of a dominion founded upon violence and 
terror. It may and must be true that Mr. Hastings has repeat- 
edly offended against the rights and privileges of Asiatic govern- 
ment, if he was the faithful deputy of a power which could not 
maintain itself for an hour without trampling upon both. He 
may and must have offended against the laws of God and nature, 
if he was the faithful viceroy of an empire wrested in blood from 
the people to whom God and nature had given it. He may and 
must have preserved that unjust dominion over timorous and 
abject nations by a terrifying, overbearing, insulting superiority, 
if he was the faithful administrator of your government, which, 



208 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

having no root in consent or affection — no foundation in simil- 
arity of interests — no support from any one principle which 
cements men together in society, could only be upheld by alter- 
nate stratagem and force. The unhappy people of India, feeble 
and effeminate as they are from the softness of their climate, and 
subdued and broken as they have been by the knavery and 
strength of civilization, still occasionally start up in all the vigor 
and intelligence of insulted nature. To be governed at all, they 
must be governed with a rod of iron ; and our empire in the East 
would, long since, have been lost to Great Britain, if civil skill 
and military prowess had not united their efforts to support an 
authority — which Heaven never gave — by means which it 
never can sanction. 

Gentlemen, I think I can observe that you are touched with 
this way of considering the subject, and I can account for it. I 
have not been considering it through the cold medium of hooks, 
but have been speaking of man and his nature, and of human 
dominion, from what I have seen of them myself among reluc- 
tant nations submitting to our authority. I know what they 
feel, and how such feelings can alone be repressed. I have heard 
them in my youth from a naked savage, in the indignant charac- 
ter of a prince surrounded by his subjects, addressing the Gov- 
ernor of a British colony, holding a bundle of sticks in his hand, 
as the notes of his unlettered eloquence. " Who is it," said the 
jealous ruler over the desert, encroached upon by the restless 
foot of English adventure — " who is it that causes this river to 
rise in the high mountains, and to empty itself into the ocean ? 
Who is it that causes to blow the loud winds of winter, and that 
calms them again in summer ? Who is it that rears up the 
shade of those lofty forests, and blasts them with the quick 
lightning at his pleasure ? The same Being who gave to you a 
country on the other side of the waters, and gave ours to us ; 
and by this title we will defend it," said the warrior, throwing 
down his tomahawk upon the ground, and raising the war-sound 
of his nation. These are the feelings of subjugated man all 
round the globe; and depend upon it, nothing but fear will 
control where it is vain to look for affection. 

If England, from a lust of ambition and dominion, will insist 
on maintaining despotic rule over distant and hostile nations, 
beyond all comparison more numerous and extended than herself, 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 209 

and gives commission to her viceroys to govern them with no 
other instructions than to preserve them, and to secure perma- 
nently their revenues, with what color of consistency or reason 
can she place herself in the moral chair, and affect to be shocked 
at the execution of her own orders : adverting to the exact 
measure of wickedness and injustice necessary to their execution, 
and, complaining only of the excess as the immorality, considering 
her authority as a dispensation for breaking the commands of 
God, and the breach of them as only punishable when contrary 
to the ordinances of man ? Such a proceeding, gentlemen, 
begets serious reflection. It would be better, perhaps, for the 
masters and the servants of all such governments to join in sup- 
plication, that the great Author of violated humanity may not 
confound them together in one common judgment. LwdErakine. 



CLV. 
DECLARATION OF EIGHT. 

f" MIGHT, as a constituent, come to your bar and demand my 
liberty. I do call upon you by the laws of the land, and their 
violation ; by the instructions of eighteen counties ; by the arms, 
inspiration, and providence of the present moment — tell us the 
rule by which we shall go ; assert the law of Ireland ; declare 
the liberty of the land ! I will not be answered by a public lie, 
in the shape of an amendment; nor, speaking for the subjects' 
freedom, am I to hear of faction. I wish for nothing but to 
breathe in this our island, in common with my fellow-subjects, 
the air of liberty. I have no ambition, unless it be to break 
your chain and contemplate your glory. I never will be satisfied 
so long as the meanest cottager in Ireland has a link of the Brit- 
ish chain clanking to his rags. He may be naked, — he shall 
not be in irons. And I do see the time at hand ; the spirit is 
gone forth ; the Declaration of Right is planted ; and though 
great men should fall off, yet the cause shall live ; and though he 
who utters this should die, yet the immortal fire shall outlast the 
humble organ who conveys it, and the breath of liberty, like the 
word of the holy man, will not die with the prophet, but survive 
him. H. Grattan. 

14 



210 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

CLVL 
POLITICS AND RELIGION. 
rriHAT religion has, in fact, nothing to do with the politics of 
many who profess it, is a melancholy truth. But that it 
has of right, no concern with political transactions, is quite a new 
discovery. If such opinions, however, prevail, there is no longer 
any mystery in the character of those whose conduct in political 
matters violates every precept and slanders every principle of the 
religion of Christ. But what is politics ? Is it not the science 
and the exercise of civil rights and civil duties ? And what is 
religion ? Is it not an obligation to the service of God, founded 
on his authority, and extending to all our relations, personal and 
social ? Yet religion has nothing to do with politics ! Where 
did you learn this maxim ? The Bible is full of directions for 
your behavior as citizens. It is plain, pointed, awful in its in- 
junctions on ruler and ruled as such : yet religion has nothing to 
do with politics I You are commanded " in all your ways to ac- 
knowledge HimP In everything, by prayer and supplication, 
with thanksgiving, to let your requests be made known unto God.'* 

" And WHATSOEVER YE DO, IN WORD OR DEED, to do ALL IN 

the name of the Lord Jesus." Yet religion has nothing to do 
with politics ! Most astonishing ! And is there any part of 
your conduct in which you are, or wish to be, without law to God f 
and not under the law of Jesus Christ ? Can you persuade your- 
selves that political men and measures are to undergo no review 
in the judgment to come ? That all the passion and violence, 
the fraud and falsehood and corruption, which pervade the sys- 
tem of party, and burst out like a flood at the public elections, are 
to be blotted from the catalogue of unchristian deeds, because 
they are politics ? Or that a minister of the gospel may see his 
people, in their political career, bid defiance to their God in 
breaking through every moral restraint, and keep a guiltless 
silence, because religion has nothing to do with politics ? I for- 
bear to press the argument farther ; observing only that many of 
our difficulties and sins may be traced to this pernicious notion. 
Yes, if our religion had had more to do with our politics ; if, in 
the pride of our citizenship, we had not forgotten our Christian- 
ity ; if we had prayed more and wrangled less about the affairs of 
our country, it would have been infinitely better for us at this 
day. J. M. Mason. 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 
POETEY. 



CLvn. 

THE STAR-SPANGLED BANNER. 

i^V SAY, can you see, by the dawn's early light, 

^-^ What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming — 

Whose broad stripes and bright stars, through the perilous fight, 

O'er the ramparts we watched were so gallantly streaming ! 
And the rockets' red glare, the bombs bursting in air, 
Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there ; 
O say, does that Star-Spangled Banner yet wave 
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave ! 

On that shore, dimly seen through the mists of the deep, 
Where the foe's haughty host in dread silence reposes, 

What is that which the breeze, o'er the towering steep, 
As it fitfully blows, now conceals, now discloses ! 

Now it catches the gleam of the morning's first beam, 

In full glory reflected now shines on the stream : 

'T is the Star-Spangled Banner ! — O, long may it wave 
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave ! 

And where are the foes who so vauntingly swore 
That the havoc of war and the battle's confusion, 

A home and a country should leave us no more ? 

Their blood hath washed out their foul footsteps' pollution ! 

No refuge could save the hireling and slave 

From the terror of flight or the gloom of the grave ; 
And the Star-Spangled Banner in triumph shall wave 
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave ! 



212 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

O, thus be it ever, when freemen shall stand 

Between their loved homes and the war's desolation ! 

Blessed with victory and peace, may the heaven-rescued land 
Praise the Power that hath made and preserved us a Nation. 

Then conquer we must, when our cause it is just, 

And this be our motto, — " In God is our trust ; " 

And the Star- Spangled Banner in triumph shall wave 

O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave ! 

F. S. Key. 

» 

CLvin. 
ASPIRATIONS OF YOUTH. 

TTIGHER, higher, will we climb, 

■*"*■ Up the mount of glory, 

That our names may live through time 

In our country's story ; 
Happy, when her welfare calls, 
He who conquers, he who falls. 

Deeper, deeper, let us toil, 

In the mines of knowledge ; 
Nature's wealth, and learning's spoil, 

Win from school and college ; 
Delve we then for richer gems 
Than the stars of diadems. 

Onward, onward, may we press 

Through the path of duty ; 
Virtue is true happiness, 

Excellence true beauty. 
Minds are of celestial birth ; 
Make we then a heaven of earth. 

Closer, closer, let us knit 

Hearts and hands together, 
Where our fireside comforts sit, 

In the wildest weather ; 
! they wander wide who roam 
For the joys of life from home ! j. Montgomery. 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 213 

CLIX. 
THE LOVE OF COUNTRY AND OF HOME. 

rpHERE is a land, of every land the pride, 

Beloved by Heaven o'er all the world beside ; 
Where brighter suns dispense serener light, 
And milder moons imparadise the night ; 
A land of beauty, virtue, valor, truth, 
Time-tutored age, and love-exalted youth. 

The wandering mariner, whose eye explores 
The wealthiest isles, the most enchanting shores, 
Views not a realm so bountiful and fair, 
Nor breathes the spirit of a purer air ; 
In every clime, the magnet of his soul, 
Touched by remembrance, trembles to that pole ; 
For in this land of Heaven's peculiar gracej 
The heritage of Nature's noblest race, 
There is a spot of earth supremely blest, 
A dearer, sweeter spot than all the rest, 
Where man, creation's tyrant, casts aside 
His sword and sceptre, pageantry and pride, 
While, in his softened looks, benignly blend 
The sire, the son, the husband, brother, friend. 

Here woman reigns ; the mother, daughter, wife, 
Strews with fresh flowers the narrow way of life ! 
In the clear heaven of her delightful eye, 
An angel-guard of loves and graces lie ; 
Around her knees domestic duties meet, 
And fireside pleasures gambol at her feet. 
Where shall that land, that spot of earth be found ? 
Art thou a man ? — a patriot ? — look around ; 
O ! thou shalt find, howe'er thy footsteps roam, 
That land thy country, and that spot thy home ! 

J. Montgomery. 



214 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

OLX. 
THE BELLS. 

TT EAR the sledges with the bells — 
-"- Silver bells ! 
What a world of merriment their melody foretells ! 
How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, 

In the icy air of night ! 
While the stars that over sprinkle 
All the heavens, seem to twinkle 
With a crystalline delight ; 
Keeping time, time, time, 
In a sort of Runic rhyme, 
To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells 
From the bells, bells, bells, bells, 
Bells, bells, bells — 
From' the jingling and the tinkling of the bells. 

Hear the mellow wedding bells — 
Golden bells ! 
What a world of happiness their harmony foretells ! 
Through the balmy air of night 
How they ring out their delight ! 
From the molten-golden notes, 

All in time, 
What a liquid ditty floats 
To the turtle-dove that listens, while she gloats 
On the moon ! 
O, from out the sounding cells, 
What a gush of euphony voluminously wells ! 
How it swells, 
How it dwells 
On the future ! how it tells 
Of rapture that impels 
To the swinging and the ringing 
Of the bells, bells, bells, 
Of the bells, beUs, beUs, bells, 






STANDARD SELECTIONS. 215 

Bells, bells, bells — 
To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells ! 

Hear the loud alarum bells — 
Brazen bells ! 
What a tale of terror, now, their turbulency tells ! 
In the startled ear of night 
How they scream out their affright ! 
Too much horrified to speak, 
They can only shriek, shriek, 
Out of time, 
In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire, 
In a mad expostulation with the deaf and frantic fire, 
Leaping higher, higher, higher, 
With a desperate desire, 
And a resolute endeavor, 
Now — now to sit, or never, 
By the side of the pale-faced moon. 
O, the bells, bells, bells ! 
What a tale their terror tells 
Of Despair ! 
How they clang, and clash, and roar! 
What a horror they outpour 
On the bosom of the palpitating air ! 
Yet the ear, it fully knows, 
By the twanging 
And the clanging, 
How the danger sinks and swells, 
By the sinking or the swelling in the anger of the bells — 
Of the bells — . 
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells, 
Bells, bells, bells — 
In the clamor and the clangor of the bells ! 

Hear the tolling of the bells — 
Iron bells ! 
What a world of solemn thought their monody compels ! 
In the silence of the night, 
How we shiver with affright 



216 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

At the melancholy menace of their tone ! 
For every sound that floats 
From the rust within their throats, 

Is a groan. 
And the people ■ — ah, the people — 
They that dwell up in the steeple, 

All alone, 
And who, tolling, tolling, tolling, 

In that muffled monotone, 
Feel a glory in so rolling 

On the human heart a stone — 
They are neither man nor woman — 
They are neither brute nor human — 

They are Ghouls ; 
And their king it is who tolls ; 
And he rolls, rolls, rolls, 
Rolls 
A paean from the bells ! 
And his merry bosom swells with the paean of the bells ! 
And he dances, and he yells ; 
Keeping time, time, time, 
In a sort of Runic rhyme, 
To the paean of the bells — 

Of the beUs : 
Keeping time, time, time 
In a sort of Runic rhyme, 

To the throbbing of the bells — 
Of the bells, bells, bells — 

To the sobbing of the bells ; 
Keeping time, time, time, 

As he knells, knells, knells, 
In a happy Runic rhyme, 

To the rolling of the bells — 
Of the bells, bells, bells ; 

To the tolling of the bells — 
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells ; 
Bells, bells, bells — 
To the moaning and the groaning of the bells ! 

E. A. Poe. 



o 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 217 

CLXI. 

THE RAVEN. 

NCE upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and 
weary, 

Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore — 
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, 
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. 
" 'T is some visitor," I muttered, " tapping at my chamber door — 
Only this, and nothing more." 

Ah ! distinctly I remember, it was in the bleak December, 
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. 
Eagerly I wished the morrow ; — vainly I had sought to borrow, 
From my books, surcease of sorrow — sorrow for the lost 

Lenore — 
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore — 
Nameless here for evermore. 

And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain 
Thrilled me — filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before ; 
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating, 
" 'T is some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door — 
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door ; — 
This it is, and nothing more." 

Presently my soul grew stronger ; hesitating then no longer, 
" Sir," said I, " or madam, truly your forgiveness I implore ; 
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping, 
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door, 
That I scarce was sure I heard you " — here I opened wide the 
door ; — 

Darkness there, and nothing more. 

Deep into the darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, 

fearing, 
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before ; 
But the silence was unbroken and the darkness gave no token, 



218 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, 

" Lenore ! " 
This / whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, 

« Lenore ! " 

Merely this, and nothing more. 

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning, 

Soon I heard again a tapping somewhat louder than before. 

" Surely," said I, " surely that is something at my window 

lattice ; 
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore — 
Let my heart be still a moment, and this mystery explore ; — 
'T is the wind, and nothing more ! " 

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter, 
In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore : 
Not the least obeisance made he ; not an instant stopped or 

stayed he ; 
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber 

door, — 
Perched upon a bust of Pallas, just above my chamber door, — 
Perched, and sat, and nothing more. 

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling, 

By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore, 

" Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, " art sure 

no craven, 
Ghastly, grim, and ancient Raven, wandering from the Nightly 

shore — 
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian 

shore ! " 

Quoth the Raven, " Nevermore." 

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly, 
Though its answer little meaning — little relevancy bore ; 
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being 
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door — 
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door — 
With such a name as " Nevermore." 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 219 

But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only 
That one word,- as if his soul in that one word he did outpour. 
Nothing further then he uttered — not a feather then he fluttered — 
Till I scarcely more than muttered, " Other friends have flown 

before — 
On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown 

before." 

Then the bird said, " Nevermore." 

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken, 
" Doubtless," said I, u what it utters is its only stock and store, 
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster 
Followed fast, and followed faster, till his songs one burden bore — 
Till the dirges of his Hope the melancholy burden bore 
Of ' Nevermore ' — ' Nevermore.' " 

But the Raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling, 
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust, 

and door ; 
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking 
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore — 
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of 

yore 

Meant in croaking, " Nevermore." 

Thus I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing 
To the fowl, whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core ; 
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining 
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er, 
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er, 
She shall press, ah, nevermore ! 

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen 

censer, 
Swung by angels whose faint foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor. 
" Wretch," I cried, u thy God hath lent thee — by these angels 

he hath sent thee 
Respite — respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore ! 
Quaff, O quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore ! " 
Quoth the Raven, " Nevermore." 



220 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

" Prophet," said I, " thing of evil ! — prophet still, if bird or 

devil ! 
By that heaven that bends above us — by that God we both 

adore — 
Tell this soul with sorrow laden, if, within the distant Aiden, 
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore — 
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore." 
Quoth the Raven, " Nevermore." 

" Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend ! " I shrieked, 

upstarting — 
" Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore ! 
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken ! 
Leave my loneliness unbroken ! — quit the bust above my door ! 
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off 

my door ! " 

Quoth the Raven, " Nevermore." 

And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting 
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door ; 
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon that is dreaming, 
And the lamp-light, o'er him streaming, throws his shadow on 

the floor ; 
And my soul from out that shadow, that lies floating on the floor — 
Shall be lifted — nevermore ! e. A. Poe. 



CLxn. 
SPIRIT OF PATRIOTISM. 

"OREATHES there a man with soul so dead, 
-^ Who never to himself hath said, — 

" This is my own, — my native land ! " 
Whose heart hath ne'er within him burned, 
As home his footsteps he hath turned, 

From wandering on a foreign strand ? 
If such there breathe, go mark him well, — 
For him, — no minstrel raptures swell ! 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 221 

High though his titles, proud his name, 

Boundless his wealth as wish can claim ; 

Despite those titles, power, and pelf, 

The wretch concentered all in self, 

Living, shall forfeit fair renown, 

And doubly dying, shall go down 

To the vile dust from whence he sprung, 

Unwept, unhonored, and unsung ! sir W. Scott. 



CLxni. 
LOCHINVAR. 

f~\ YOUNG Lochinvar is come out of the West ! 

^-^ Through all the wide Border his steed is the best ; 

And save his good broadsword he weapon had none ; — 

He rode all unarmed, and he rode all alone. 

So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war, 

There never was knight like the young Lochinvar 1 

He staid not for brake, and he stopped not for stone ; 

He swam the Eske river where ford there was none ; — 

But, ere he alighted at Netherby gate, 

The bride had consented — the gallant came late ; 

For a laggard in love, and a dastard in war, 

Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave Lochinvar ! 

So boldly he entered the Netherby Hall, 
Among bridesmen, and kinsmen, and brothers, and all. 
Then spoke the bride's father, his hand on his sword — 
For the poor craven bridegroom said never a word — 
" come ye in peace here, or come ye in war ? — 
Or to dance at our bridal, young Lord Lochinvar ? " 

" I long wooed your daughter ; — my suit you denied : 
Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide ! 
And now I am come, with this lost love of mine, 
To lead but one measure — drink one cup of wine. 
There be maidens in Scotland, more lovely by far, 
That would gladly be bride to the young Lochinvar ! " 



222 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

The bride kissed the goblet ; the knight took it up — 
He quaffed off the wine, and he threw down the cup ! 
She looked down to blush, and she looked up to sigh, — 
With a smile on her lip, and a tear in her eye. 
He took her soft hand, ere her mother could bar ; — 
" Now tread we a measure ! " said young Lochinvar. 

So stately his form, and so lovely her face, 

That never a hall such a galliard did grace ! 

While her mother did fret, and her father did fume, 

And the bridegroom stood dangling his bonnet and plume, 

And the bridemaidens whispered, " 'T were better, by far, 

To have matched our fair cousin with young Lochinvar ! " 

One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear — 

When they reached the hall door, where the charger stood near ; 

So light to the croup the fair lady he swung, 

So light to the saddle before her he sprung ! — 

" She is won ! — we are gone, over bank, bush, and scaur ; 

They '11 have fleet steeds that follow ! " cried young Lochinvar. 

There was mounting 'mong Graemes of the Netherby clan ; 

Fosters, Fen wicks, and Musgraves, they rode and they ran ; 

There was racing, and chasing, on Cannobie lea ! 

But the lost bride of Netherby ne'er did they see ! — 

So daring in love, and so dauntless in war, 

Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar ! 

Sir W. Scott. 



CLXIV. 
MARMION TAKING LEAVE OF DOUGLAS. 

rpHE train from out the castle drew ; 
-*- But Marmion stopped to bid adieu : — 

" Though something I might plain," he said, 
" Of cold respect to stranger guest, 
Sent hither by your king's behest, 

While in.Tantallon's towers I stayed, — 
Part we in friendship from your land, 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 223 

And, noble earl, receive my hand." 
But Douglas round him drew his cloak, 
Folded his arms, and thus he spoke : — 
" My manors, halls, and bowers, shall still 
Be open, at my sovereign's will, 
To each one whom he lists, howe'er 
Unmeet to be the owner's peer. 
My castles are my king's alone, 
From turret to foundation-stone ; — 
The hand of Douglas is his own ; 
And never shall in friendly grasp 
The hand of such as Marmion clasp ! " 
Burned Marmion's swarthy cheek like fire, 
And shook his very frame for ire, 

And — " This to me ! " he said, — 
" An 't were not for thy hoary beard, 
Such hand as Marmion's had not spared 

To cleave the Douglas' head ! 
And, first, I tell thee, haughty peer, 
He w T ho does England's message here, 
Although the meanest in her state, 
May well, proud Angus, be thy mate ! 
And, Douglas, more I tell thee here, 

E'en in thy pitch of pride, 
Here, in thy hold, thy vassals near — 
(Nay, never look upon your lord, 
And lay your hands upon your sword,) 

I tell thee, thou 'rt defied ! 
And if thou said'st I am not a peer 
To any lord in Scotland here, 
Lowland or Highland, far or near, 

Lord Angus, thou hast lied ! " 
On the earl's cheek the flush of rage 
O'ercame the ashen hue of age : 
Fierce he broke forth : " And darest thou, then, 
To beard the lion in his den, — 

The Douglas in his hall ? 
And hopest thou hence unscathed to go ? 
No, by Saint Bride of Bothwell, no ! — 



224 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

Up drawbridge, grooms ! — what, warder, ho ! 

Let the portcullis fall." 
Lord Mar m ion turned, — well was his need, — 
And dashed the rowels in his steed, 
Like arrow through the archway sprung; 
The ponderous gate behind him rung : 
To pass, there was such scanty room, 
The bars, descending, razed his plume. 

The steed along the drawbridge flies, 

Just as it trembled on the rise ; 

Not lighter does the swallow skim 

Along the smooth lake's level brim : 

And when Lord Marmion reached his band, 

He halts, and turns with clenched hand, 

A shout of loud defiance pours, 

And shakes his gauntlet at the towers ! sir W. Scott. 



CLXV. 
HIGHLAND WAR-SONG. 

T>IBROCH of Donuil Dhu, pibroch of Donuil, 
-*- Wake thy wild voice anew, summon Clan Conuil. 
Come away, come away, hark to the summons ! 
Come in your war-array, gentles and commons. 

Come from deep glen, and from mountain so rocky ; 
The war-pipe and pennon are at Inverlocky. 
Come every hill-plaid, and true heart that wears one, 
Come every steel blade, and strong hand that bears one. 

Leave untended the herd, the flock without shelter ; 
Leave the corpse uninterred, the bride at the altar ; 
Leave the deer, leave the steer, leave nets and barges : 
Come with your fighting gear, broadswords and targes. 

Come as the winds come, when forests are rended, 
Come as the waves come, when navies are stranded : 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 225 

Faster come, faster come, faster and faster, 
Chief, vassal, page and groom, tenant and master. 

Fast they come, fast they come ; see how they gather ! 
Wide waves the eagle plume, blendecl with heather. 
Cast your plaids, draw your blades, forward each man set ! 
Pibroch of Donuil Dhu, knell for the onset ! sir W. Scott. 



CLXVL 
DAVWS LAMENT FOR ABSALOM. 

THE king stood still 
Till the last echo died ; then, throwing off 
The sackcloth from his brow, and laying back 
The pall from the still features of his child, 
He bowed his head upon him, and broke forth 
In the resistless eloquence of woe : — 

" Alas ! my noble boy ! that thou shouldst die ! 

Thou, who wert made so beautifully fair ! 
That death should settle in thy glorious eye, 

And leave his stillness in this clustering hair ! 
How could he mark thee for the silent tomb, 
My proud boy, Absalom ! 

" Cold is thy brow, my son ! and I am chill, 
As to my bosom I have tried to press thee ! 

How was I wont to feel my pulses thrill. 

Like a rich harp-string, yearning to caress thee, 

And hear thy sweet * My father ! ' from those dumb 
And cold lips, Absalom ! 

" But death is on thee ; I shall hear the gush 

Of music, and the voices of the young ; 
And life will pass me in the mantling blush, 

And the dark tresses to the soft winds flung ; — 
But thou no more, with thy sweet voice, shalt come 
To meet me, Absalom ! 
15 



226 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

"And oh ! when I am stricken, and my heart, 
Like a bruised reed, is waiting to be broken, 

How will its love for thee, as I depart, 

Yearn for thine ear to drink its last deep token I 

It were so sweet, amid death's gathering gloom, 
To see thee. Absalom ! 

" And now, farewell ! 'T is hard to give thee up, 
With death so like a gentle slumber on thee ! — 

And thy dark sin ! — oh ! I could drink the cup, 
If from this woe its bitterness had won thee. 

May God have called thee, like a wanderer, home, 
IVIy lost boy, Absalom ! " 

" He covered up his face, and bowed himself 
A moment on his child ; then, giving him 
A look of melting tenderness, he clasped 
His hands convulsively, as if in prayer ; 
And, as if strength were given him of God, 
He rose up calmly, and composed the pall 
Firmly and decently — and left him there, 
As if his rest had been a breathing sleep, n. P. WiUis. 



I CLXV1I. 
"LOOK NOT UPON THE WINE." 

T" OOK not upon the wine when it 
"^ Is red within the cup ! 
Stay not for pleasure when she fills 

Her tempting beaker up ! 
Though clear its depths*, and rich its glow, 
A spell of madness lurks below. 

They say 't is pleasant on the lip, 

And merry on the brain ; 
They say it stirs the sluggish blood, 

And dulls the tooth of pain. 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 227 

Ay — but within its glowing deeps 
A stinging serpent, unseen, sleeps. 

Its rosy lights will turn to fire, 

Its coolness change to thirst ; 
And, by its mirth, within the brain 

A sleepless worm is nursed. 
There 's not a bubble at the brim 
That does not carry food for him. 

Then dash the brimming cup aside, 

And spill its purple wine ; 
Take not its madness to thy lip — 

Let not its curse be thine. 
'T is red and rich — but grief and woe 
Are in those rosy depths below. jy. p. wiUis. 



CLXvin. 
TEE LEPER. 



D 



AY was breaking, 



When at the altar of the temple stood 
The holy priest of God. The incense lamp 
Burned with a struggling light, and a low chant 
Swelled through the hollow arches of the roof, 
Like an articulate wail ; and there, alone, 
Wasted to ghastly thinness, Helon knelt. 
The echoes of the melancholy strain 
Died in the distant aisles, and he rose up, 
Struggling with weakness, and bowed down his head 
Unto the sprinkled ashes, and put off 
His costly raiment for the leper's garb, 
And with the sackcloth round him, and his lip 
Hid in a loathsome covering, stood still, 
.Waiting to hear his doom : — 

" Depart ! depart, O child 
Of Israel, from the temple of thy God ! 
For He has smote thee with His chastening rod, 



THE UNION SPEAKER. 

And to the desert-wild, 
From all thou lov'st, away thy feet must flee, 
That from thy plague His people may be free. 

" Depart ! and come not near 
The busy mart, the crowded city, more ; 
Nor set thy foot a human threshold o'er. 

And stay thou not to hear 
Voices that call thee in the way ; and fly 
From all who in the wilderness pass by. 

" Wet not thy burning lip 
In streams that to a human dwelling glide ; 
Nor rest thee where the covert fountains hide ; 

Nor kneel thee down to dip 
The water where the pilgrim bends to drink, 
By desert well, or river's grassy brink. 

" And pass not thou between 
The weary traveller and the cooling breeze ; 
And lie not down to sleep beneath the trees 

Where human tracks are seen ; 
Nor milk the goat that browseth on the plain, 
Nor pluck the standing corn, or yellow grain. 

" And now depart ! and when 
Thy heart is heavy, and thine eyes are dim, 
Lift up thy prayer beseechingly to Him, 

Who, from the tribes of men, 
Selected thee to feel His chastening rod — 
Depart ! leper ! and forget not God ! " 

And he went forth — alone ! not one of all 
The many whom he loved, nor she whose name 
Was woven in the fibres of the heart 
Breaking within him now, to come and speak 
Comfort unto him. Yea, he went his way, 
Sick and heart-broken, and alone — to die ! 
For God had cursed the leper ! 






STANDARD SELECTIONS. J 

It was noon, 
And Helon knelt beside a stagnant pool 
In the lone wilderness, and bathed his brow, 
Hot with the burning leprosy, and touched 
The loathsome water to his fevered lips, 
Praying he might be so blest — to die ! 
Footsteps approached, and with no strength to flee, 
He drew the covering closer on his lip, 
Crying, " Unclean ! — unclean ! " and in the folds 
Of the coarse sackcloth shrouding up his face, 
He fell upon the earth till they should pass. 
Nearer the Stranger came, and bending o'er 
The leper's prostrate form, pronounced his name — 
" Helon ! " The voice was like the master-tone 
Of a rich instrument — most strangely sweet ; 
And the dull pulses of disease awoke, 
And for a moment beat beneath the hot 
And leprous scales with a restoring thrill. 
" Helon arise ! " And he forgot his curse, 
And rose and stood before him. 

Love and awe 
Mingled in the regard of Helon's eye, 
As he beheld the Stranger. He was not 
In costly raiment clad, nor on His brow 
The symbol of a lofty lineage wore ; 
No followers at His back, nor in His hand 
Buckler, or sword, or spear — yet in His mien 
Command sat throned serene, and if He smiled, 
A kingly condescension graced His lips, 
The lion would have crouched to in his lair. 
His garb was simple, and His sandals worn ; 
His statue modelled with a perfect grace ; 
His countenance, the impress of a God, 
Touched with the open innocence of a child ; 
His eye was blue and calm, as is the sky 
In the serenest noon ; His hair, unshorn, 
Fell to His shoulders ; and His curling beard 
The fulness of perfected manhood bore. 



230 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

He looked on Helon earnestly awhile, 

As if His heart was moved ; and stooping down, 

He took a little water in His hand 

And laid it on his brow, and said, " Be clean ! " 

And lo ! the scales fell from him, and his blood 

Coursed with delicious coolness through his veins, 

And his dry palms grew moist, and on his brow 

The dewy softness of an infant's stole. 

His leprosy was cleansed, and he fell down 

Prostrate at Jesus' feet, and worshipped him. 

N. P. Willis. 



CLXIX. 
PARRHASIUS AND THE CAPTIVE. 

rriHE golden light into the painter's room 

Streamed richly, and the hidden colors stole 
From the dark pictures radiantly forth, 
And in the soft and dewy atmosphere, 
Like forms and landscapes magical they lay. 
Parrhasius stood, gazing forgetfully 
Upon his canvas. There Prometheus lay 
Chained to the cold rocks of Mount Caucasus — 
The vulture at his vitals, and the links 
Of the lame Lemnian festering in his flesh ; 
And, as the painter's mind felt through the dim 
Rapt mystery, and plucked the shadows forth 
With its far-reaching fancy, and with form 
And color clad them, his fine, earnest eye 
Flashed with a passionate fire, and the quick curl 
Of his thin nostril, and his quivering lip 
Were like the winged god's, breathing from his flight. 

" Bring me the captive, now ! 
My hand feels skilful, and the shadows lift 
From my waked spirit airily and swift, 

And I could paint the bow 
Upon the bended heavens — around me play 
Colors of such divinity to-day. 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 231 

" Ha ! bind him on his back ! 
Look ! — as Prometheus in my picture here ! 
Quick ! — or he faints ! — stand with the cordial near ! 

Now — bend him on the rack ! 
Press down the poisoned links into his flesh ! 
And tear agape that healing wound afresh ! 

" So, — let him writhe ! How long 
Will he live thus ? Quick, my good pencil, now ! 
What a fine agony works upon his brow ! 

Ha ! gray-haired and so strong ! 
How fearfully he stifles that short moan ! 
Gods ! if I could but paint a dying groan ! 

"'Pity' thee! Soldo! 
I pity the dumb victim at the altar — 
But does the robed priest for his pity falter ? 

I 'd rack thee, though I knew 
A thousand lives were perishing in thine — 
What were ten thousand to a fame like mine ? 

" But, there 's a deathless name ! 
A spirit that the smothering vault shall spurn, 
And, like a steadfast planet, mount and burn — 

And though its crown of flame 
Consumed my brain to ashes as it shone — 
By all the fiery stars ! I 'd bind it on ! 

" Ay — though it bid me rifle 
My heart's last fount for its insatiate thirst — 
Though every life-strung nerve be maddened first — 

Though it should bid me stifle 
The yearning in my throat for my sweet child, 
And taunt its mother till my brain went wild — 

" All — I would do it all — 
Sooner than die, like a dull worm, to rot — 
Thrust foully into earth to be forgot ! 

O heavens ! — but I appall 



282 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

Your heart, old man ! — forgive — ha ! on your lives 
Let him not faint ! — rack him till he revives ! 

" Vain — vain — give o'er. His eye 
Glazes apace. He does not feel you now — 
Stand back ! I '11 paint the death-dew on his brow ! 

Gods ! if he do not die, 
But for one moment — one — till I eclipse 
Conception with the scorn of those calm lips ! 

" Shivering ! Hark ! he mutters 
Brokenly now — that was a difficult breath — 
Another ? Wilt thou never come, O Death ? 

Look ! how his temple flutters ! 
Is his heart still ? Aha ! lift up his head ! 
He shudders — gasps — Jove help him — so — he 's dead." 

How like a mounting devil in the heart 

Rules the unreined ambition ! Let it once 

But play the monarch, and its haughty brow 

Glows with a beauty that bewilders thought, 

And unthrones peace forever. Putting on 

The very pomp of Lucifer, it turns 

The heart to ashes, and with not a spring 

Left in the bosom for the spirit's life, 

We look upon our splendor, and forget 

The thirst of which we perish ! 

Oh, if earth be all, and heaven nothing, 

What thrice mocked fools are we ! n. P. Willis. 



CLXX. 
CASABIANCA. 



rpHE boy stood on the burning deck 
-^ Whence all but him had fled ; 
The flame that lit the battle's wreck 
Shone round him o'er the dead. 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 233 

The flames rolled on. He would not go 

Without his father's word ; 
That father faint in death below, 

His voice no longer heard. 

He called aloud : " Say, father, say 

If yet my task is done ! " 
He knew not that the chieftain lay 

Unconscious of his son. 

" Speak, father ! " once again he cried, 

" If I may yet be gone ! " 
And but the booming shots replied, 

And fast the flames rolled on. 

Upon his brow he felt their breath, 

And in his waving hair, 
And looked from that lone post of death 

In still, yet brave despair ; 

And shouted but once more aloud, 

" My father ! must I stay ? " 
While o'er him fast through sail and shroud, 

The wreathing fires made way. 

They wrapt the ship in splendor wild, 

They caught the flag on high, 
And streamed above the gallant child 

Like banners in the sky. 

Then came a burst of thunder sound — 

The boy — oh ! where was he ! 
Ask of the winds that far around 

With fragments strewed the sea, 

With mast, and helm, and pennon fair, 

That well had borne their part ; 
But the noblest thing that perished there 

Was that young faithful heart ! Mrs. Eemans. 



234 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

CLXXI. * 

THE BENDED BOW. 

T^HERE was heard the sound of a coming foe, 

There was sent through Britain a bended bow ; 
And a voice was poured on the free winds far, 
As the land rose up at the sound of war : 

Heard ye not the battle horn ? 
Reaper ! leave thy golden corn ! 
Leave it for the birds of heaven ; 
Swords must flash, and spears be riven : 
Leave it for the winds to shed, — 

Arm ! ere Britain's turf grows red ! 
And the reaper armed, like a freeman's son ; 
And the bended bow and the voice passed on. 

Hunter ! leave the mountain chase ! 

Take the falchion from its place ! 

Let the wolf go free to-day ; 

Leave him for a nobler prey ! 

Let the deer ungalled sweep by, — 
Arm thee ! Britain's foes are nigh ! 
And the hunter armed, ere the chase was done ; 
And the bended bow and the voice passed on. 

Chieftain ! quit the joyous feast ! 
Stay not till the song hath ceased : 
Though the mead be foaming bright, 
Though the fire gives ruddy light, 
Leave the hearth and leave the hall, — 
Arm thee ! Britain's foes must fall ! 

And the chieftain armed, and the horn was blown ; 

And the bended bow and the voice passed on. 

Prince ! thy father's deeds are told 
In the bower and in the hold, 
Where the goatherd's lay is sung, 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 235 

Where the minstrel's harp is strung ! 

Foes are on thy native sea, — 

Give our bards a tale of thee ! 
And the prince came armed, like a leader's son ; 
And the bended bow and the voice passed on. 

Mother ! stay thou not thy boy ! 

He must learn the battle's joy. 

Sister ! bring the sword and spear, 

Give thy brother words of cheer ! 

Maiden ! bid thy lover part ; 

Britain calls the strong in heart ! 
And the bended bow and the voice passed on ; 
And the bards made song of a battle won. Mrs. Eemans. 



clxxh. 
TEE BETTER LAND. 

66 T HEAR thee speak of the better land, 

Thou call'st its children a happy band ; 
Mother ! O where is that radiant shore ? — 
Shall we not seek it and weep no more ? — 
Is it where the flower of the orange blows, 
Ajid the fire-flies glance thro' the myrtle boughs ? " 

— " Not there, not there, my child ! " 

" Is it where the feathery palm-trees rise, 
And the date grows ripe under sunny skies ? 
Or midst the green islands of glittering seas, 
Where fragrant forests perfume the breeze, 
And strange, bright birds, on starry wings, 
Bear the rich hues of all glorious things ? " 

— " Not there, not there, my child ! " 

" Is it far away, in some region old, 
Where the rivers wander o'er sands of gold ? — 
Where the burning rays of the ruby shine, 
And the diamond lights up the secret mine, 



236 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

And the pearl gleams forth from the coral strand ? " 
Is it there, sweet mother ! that better land ? " 

— " Not there, not there, my child ! " 

" Eye hath not seen it, my gentle boy ! 
Ear hath not heard its deep songs of joy ; 
Dreams cannot picture a world so fair — 
Sorrow and death may not enter there ; 
Time doth not breathe on its fadeless bloom, 
For beyond the clouds, and beyond the tomb, 

— It is there, it is there, my child." Mrs. Hemans. 



CLxxm. 

LANDING OF THE PILGRIM FATHERS. 

fMHE breaking waves dashed high 

On a stern and rock-bound coast, . 
And the woods against a'stormy sky 
Their giant branches tossed ; 

And the heavy night hung dark 

The hills and waters o'er, 
When a band of Exiles moored their bark 

On the wild New England shore. 

Not as the conqueror comes, 
They, the true-hearted, came ; 

Not with the roll of the stirring drums, 
And the trumpet that sings of fame ; * 

Not as the flying come, 

In silence and in fear ; — 
They shook the depths of the desert's gloom 

With their hymns of lofty cheer. 

Amidst the storm they sang, 

And the stars heard, and the sea ! 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 237 

And the sounding aisles of the dim woods rang 
To the anthem of the free ! 

The ocean eagle soared 

From his nest by the white wave's foam, 
And the rocking pines of the forest roared ; — 

This was their welcome home ! 

There were men with hoary hair 

Amidst that Pilgrim band ; 
Why have they come to wither there, 

Away from their childhood's land ? 

There was woman's fearless eye, 

Lit by her deep love's truth ; 
There was manhood's brow, serenely high, 

And the fiery heart of youth. 

What sought they thus, afar ? 

Bright jewels of the mine ? 
The wealth of seas, the spoils of war ? 

— They sought a faith's pure shrine ! 

Ay, call it holy ground, 

The soil where first they trod ! 
They have left unstained what there they found — 

Freedom to worship God ! Mrs. Eemam. 



CLXxrv. 

BERNARDO DEL CARPI 0. 

HHHE warrior bowed his crested head, and tamed his heart 

of fire, 
And sued the haughty king to free his long-imprisoned sire ; — 
" I bring thee here my fortress-keys, I bring my captive train, 
I pledge thee faith, my liege, my lord ! — O ! break my father's 
chain ! " 



238 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

— " Rise, rise ! even now thy father comes, a ransomed man this 

day! 
Mount thy good horse ; and thou and I will meet him on his 

way." 
Then lightly rose that loyal son, and bounded on his steed, 
And urged, as if with lance in rest, the charger's foamy speed. 

And lo ! from far, as on they pressed, there came a glittering 

band, 
With one that 'midst them stately rode, as leader in the land : 
" Now haste, Bernardo, haste ! for there, in very truth, is he, 
The father whom thy faithful heart hath yearned so long to see." 

His dark eye flashed, his proud breast heaved, his cheek's hue 
came and went ; 

He reached that gray-haired chieftain's side, and there, dis- 
mounting, bent; 

A lowly knee to earth he bent, his father's hand he took — 

What was there in its touch that all his fiery spirit shook ? 

That hand was cold — a frozen thing — it dropped from his like 

lead! 
He looked up to the face above, — the face was of the dead ! 
A plume waved o'er the noble brow, — the brow was fixed and 

white : 
He met, at last, his father's eyes, — but in them was no light ! 

Up from the ground he sprang and gazed, — but who could paint 

that gaze ? 
They hushed their very hearts that saw its horror and amaze ; — 
They might have chained him, as before that stony form he stood; 
For the power was stricken from his arm, and from his lip the 

blood. 

" Father ! " at length he murmured low, and wept like child- 
hood then : 
Talk not of grief till thou hast seen the tears of warlike men ! 
He thought on all his hopes, and all his young renown, — 
He flung his falchion from his side, and in the dust sat down. 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 239 

Then covering with his steel-gloved hands his darkly mournful 

brow, — 
u No more, there is no more," he said, " to lift the sword for, 

now ; 
My king is false, — my hope betrayed ! My father — O ! the 

worth, 
The glory, and the loveliness, are passed away from earth ! 

" I thought to stand where banners waved, my sire, beside thee, 

yet! 
I would that there our kindred blood on Spain's free soil had 

met! 
Thou wouldst have known my spirit, then ; — for thee my fields 

were won ; 
And thou hast perished in thy chains, as though thou hadst no 

son ! " 

Then, starting from the ground once more, he seized the mon- 
arch's rein, 

Amidst the pale and wildered looks of all the courtier train ; 

And, with a fierce, o'ermastering grasp, the rearing war-horse 
led, 

And sternly set them face to face — the king before the dead : — 

" Came I not forth, upon thy pledge, my father's hand to kiss? — 
Be still, and gaze thou on, false king ! and tell me what is this ? 
The voice, the glance, the heart I sought, — give answer, where 

are they ? 
If thou wouldst clear thy perjured soul, send life through this 

cold clay ! 

" Into these glassy eyes put light ; — be still ! keep down thine 

ire ! — 
Bid these white lips a blessing speak, — this earth is not my 

sire : 
Give me back him for whom I strove, for whom my blood was 

shed ! — 
Thou canst not ? — and a king ! — his dust be mountains on thy 

head." 



240 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

He loosed the steed, — his slack hand fell ; — upon the silent face 
He cast one long, deep, troubled look, then turned from that sad 

place : 
His hope was crushed, his after fate untold in martial strain : — 
His banner led the spears no more, amidst the hills of Spain. 

Mrs. Hemans. 
♦ 

CLXXV. 

BERNARDO AND KING ALPHONSO. 

"\T^ITH some good ten of his chosen men, 

Bernardo hath appeared, 
Before them all in the palace hall, 

The lying king to beard ; 
"With cap in hand and eye on ground, 

He came in reverend guise, 
But ever and anon he frowned, 

And flame broke from his eyes. 

" A curse upon thee," cries the king, 

" Who com'st unbid to me ! 
But what from traitor's blood should spring, 

Save traitor like to thee ? 
His sire, lords, had a traitor's heart, — 

Perchance our champion brave 
May think it were a pious part 

To share Don Sancho's grave." 

— " Whoever told this tale, 

The king hath rashness to repeat," 
Cries Bernard, " here my gage I fling 

Before the liar's feet ! 
No treason was in Sancho's blood — 

No stain in mine doth lie : 
Below the throne what knight will own 

The coward calumny ? 

" The blood that I like water shed, 
When Roland did advance, 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 241 

By secret traitors hired and led, 

To make us slaves of France ; 
The life of king Alphonso 

I saved at Roncesval — 
Your words, Lord King, are recompense 

Abundant for it all. 

" Your horse was down — your hope was flown — 

I saw the falchion shine 
That soon had drunk your royal blood, 

Had I not ventured mine ; 
But memory soon of service done 

Deserteth the ingrate ; 
You 've thanked the son for life and crown 

By the father's bloody fate. 

" Ye swore upon your kingly faith 

To set Don Sancho free ; 
But, curse upon your paltering breath ! 

The light he ne'er did see ; 
He died in dungeon cold and dim, 

By Alphonso's base decree ; 
And visage blind and stiffened limb, 

Were all they gave to me. 

" The king that swerveth from his word, 

Hath stained his purple black ; 
No Spanish lord will draw his sword 

Behind a liar's back ; 
But noble vengeance shall be mine, 

And open hate I '11 show — 
The king hath injured Carpio's line, 

And Bernard is his foe ! " 

— " Seize, seize him ! " loud the King doth scream ; 

" There are a thousand here ! 
Let his foul blood this instant stream ; — 

What ! caitiffs, do ye fear ? 
Seize, seize the traitor ! " — But not one 
16 



242 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

To move a finger dareth ; 
Bernardo standeth by the throne, 
And calm his sword he bareth. 

He drew the falchion from the sheath, 

And held it up on high ; 
And all the hall was still as death ; — 

Cries Bernard, " Here am I — 
And here 's the sword that owns no lord, 

Excepting Heaven and me ; 
Fain would I know who dares its point, — 

King, Conde, or Grandee." 

Then to his mouth his horn he drew — 

It hung below his cloak — 
His ten true men the signal knew, 

And through the ring they broke ; 
"With helm on head, and blade in hand, 

The knights the circle break, 
And back the lordlings 'gan to stand, 

And the false king to quake. 

" Ha ! Bernard," quoth Alphonso, 

" What means this warlike guise ? 
Ye know full well I jested — 

Ye know your worth I prize ! " 
But Bernard turned upon his heel, 

And, smiling, passed away : — 
Long rued Alphonso and his realm 

The jesting of that day ! J. G. LocHiart. 



CLXXVI. 
THE BRIDGE OF SIGHS. 

/^VNE more unfortunate, 
^^ Weary of breath, 
Rashly importunate, 
Gone to her death ! 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 243 

Take her up tenderly, 
Lift her with care ; 
Fashioned so slenderly, 
Young, and so fair ! 

Look at her garments 
Clinging like cerements ; 
Whilst the wave constantly 
Drips from her clothing : 
Take her up instantly, 
Loving, not loathing. 

Touch her not scornfully ; 
Think of her mournfully, 
Gentle and humanly ; 
Not of the stains of her — 
All that remains of her 
Now is pure womanly. 

Make no deep scrutiny 
Into her mutiny 
Rash and undutiful : 
Past all dishonor, 
Death has left on her 
Only the beautiful. 

Loop up her tresses 
Escaped from the comb, 
Her fair auburn tresses ; 
"While wonderment guesses 
Where was her home ? 

Who was her father ? 
Who was her mother ? 
Had she a sister ? 
Had she a brother ? 
Or was there a dearer one 
Still, and a nearer ono 
Yet, than all other ? 



244 THE UNION SPEAKER. , 

Alas ! for the rarity 
Of Christian charity 
Under the sun ! 
Oh ! it was pitiful 
Near a whole city full 
Home she had none ! 

Sisterly, brotherly, 
Fatherly, motherly 
Feelings had changed : 
Love, by harsh evidence, 
Thrown from its eminence ; 
Even God's providence 
Seeming estranged. 

When the lamps quiver 

So far in the river, 

With many a light 

From window and casement, 

From garret to basement, 

She stood with amazement 

Houseless by night. 

The bleak winds of March 

Made her tremble and shiver ; 

But not the dark arch, 

Of the black flowing river. 

Mad from life's history 
Glad to death's mystery 
Swift to be hurled — 
Anywhere, anywhere, 
Out of the world — 
In she plunged boldly, 
No matter how coldly 
The rough river ran. 

Take her up tenderly, 
Lift her with care j 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 245 

Fashioned so slenderly 
Young, and" so fair ! 

Ere her limbs frigidly 
Stiffen too rigidly, 
Decently, kindly, 
Smooth, and compose them ; 
And her eyes, close them, 
Staring so blindly ! 

.Dreadfully staring 
Through muddy impurity, 
As when with the daring 
Last look of despairing 
Fixed on futurity, 

Perishing gloomily, 

Spurred by contumely, 

Cold inhumanity, 

Burning insanity, 

Into her rest. 

— Cross her hands humbly 

As if praying dumbly, 

Over her breast ! 

Owning her weakness, 

Her evil behavior, 

And leaving, with meekness, 

Her sins to her Saviour ! t. Hood. I 



clxxvh. 
SONG OF THE SHIRT. 

^^ITH fingers weary and worn, 

With eyelids heavy and red, 
A woman sat, in unwomanly rags, 

Plying her needle and thread, — 
Stitch! stitch! stitch! 

In poverty, hunger, and dirt, 



I 
246 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

And still, with a voice of dolorous pitch, 
She sang the " Song of the Shirt." 

" Work ! work ! work ! 

While the cock is crowing aloof! 
And work, — work, — work, 

Till the stars shine through the roof! 
It 's, oh ! to be a slave 

Along with the barbarous Turk, 
Where woman has never a soul to save, 

If this is Christian work ! 

" Work, — work, — work ! 

Till the brain begins to swim, 
Work, — work, — work, 

Till the eyes are heavy and dim ! 
Seam, and gusset, and band, 

Band, and gusset, and seam, 
Till over the buttons I fall asleep, 

And sew them on in a dream I 

" Oh ! men, with sisters dear ! 

Oh ! men with mothers and wives ! 
It is not linen you 're wearing out, 

But human creatures' lives ! 
Stitch, — stitch, — stitch, 

In poverty, hunger, and dirt, 
Sewing at once, with a double thread, 

A shroud as well as a shirt. 

" But why do I talk of death, 

That Phantom of grizzly bone ? 
I hardly fear his terrible shape, 

It seems so like my own ; 
It seems so like my own, 

Because of the fasts I keep ; 
Oh, God ! -that bread should be so dear, 

And flesh and blood so cheap ! 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 247 

" Work, — work, — work ! 

My labor never rings ; 
And what are its wages ? A bed of straw, 

A crust of bread, — and rags. — 
That shattered roof, — and this naked floor, — 

A table, — a broken chair, — 
And a wall so blank, my shadow I thank 

For sometimes falling there ! 

" Work, — work, — work ! 

From weary chime to chime ! 
Work, — work, — work, 

As prisoners work for crime ! 
Band, and gusset, and seam, 

Seam, and gusset, and band, 
Till the heart is sick, and the brain benumbed, 

As well as the weary hand. 

" Work, — w r ork, — work, 

In the dull December light, 
And work, — work, — work, 

When the weather is warm and bright ; 
While underneath the eaves 

The brooding swallows cling, 
As if to show me their sunny backs, 

And twit me with the Spring. 

" Oh ! but to breathe the breath 

Of the cowslip and primrose sweet,— 
With the sky above my head 

And the grass beneath my feet ; 
For only one short hour 

To feel as I used to feel 
Before I knew the woes of want, 

And the walk that costs a meal ! 

" Oh ! for but one short hour, 

A respite, however brief! 
No blessed leisure for Love or Hope, 



248 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

But only time for Grief ! 
A little weeping would ease my heart ; 

But in their briny bed 
My tears must stop, for every drop 

Hinders needle and thread ! " 

With fingers weary and worn, 

With eyelids heavy and red, 
A woman sat in unwomanly rags 

Plying her needle and thread — 
Stitch ! — stitch ! stitch ! 

In poverty, hunger, and dirt, 
And still with a voice of dolorous pitch, — ■ 
Would that its song could reach the rich ! — 

She sang this " Song of the Shirt." t. Hood. 



clxxvih. 
LOOK ALOFT. 



■ in the tempest of life, when the waves and the gale 

Are around and above, if thy footing should fail, 
If thine eye should grow dim, and thy caution depart, 
" Look aloft," and be firm, and be fearless of heart. 

If thy friend, who embraced in prosperity's glow, 
With a smile for each joy, and a tear for each woe, 
Should betray thee when sorrows like clouds are arrayed, 
" Look aloft " to the friendship which never shall fade. 

Should the visions which hope spreads in light to the eye, 
Like the tints of the rainbow, but brighten to fly, 
Then turn, and, through tears of repentant regret, 
" Look aloft " to the sun that is never to set. 

Should they who are dearest, — the son of thy heart, 
The wife of thy bosom, — in sorrow depart, 
" Look aloft," from the darkness and dust of the tomb, 
To that soil where affection is ever to bloom. 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 249 

And, oh ! when Death comes in his terror to cast 
His fears on the future, his pall on the past, 
In that moment of darkness, with hope in thy heart, 
And a smile in thine eye, " look aloft," — and depart. 

J. Lawrence. 



CLXXIX. 

press on. 

"T)RESS on ! there 's no such word as fail ! 
-*- Press nobly on ! the goal is near, — 
Ascend the mountain ! breast the gale ! 

Look upward, onward, — never fear ! 
Why should'st thou faint ? Heaven smiles above, 

Though storm and vapor intervene ; 
That sun shines on, whose name is Love, 

Serenely o'er Life's shadowed scene. 

Press on ! surmount the rocky steeps, 

Climb boldly o'er the torrent's arch ; 
He fails alone who feebly creeps ; 

He wins who dares the hero's march. 
Be thou a hero ! let thy might 

Tramp on eternal snows its way, 
And, through the ebon walls of night 

Hew down a passage unto day. 

Press on ! if once and twice thy feet 

Slip back and stumble, harder try ; 
From him who never dreads to meet 

Danger and death, they 're sure to fly. 
To coward ranks the bullet speeds, 

While on their breasts, who never quail, 
Gleams, guardian of chivalric deeds, 

Bright courage, like a coat of mail. 

Press on ! if Fortune play thee false 

To-day, to-morrow she '11 be true ; 
Whom now she sinks, she now exalts, 

Taking old gifts, and granting new. 



250 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

The wisdom of the present hour 

Makes up for follies past and gone ; — 

To weakness strength succeeds, and power 
From frailty springs, — press on ! press on ! 

Press bravely on ! and reach the goal, 

And gain the prize, and wear the crown ; 
Faint not ! for to the steadfast soul 

Come wealth, and honor, and renown. 
To thine own self be true, and keep 

Thy mind from sloth, thy heart from soil ; 
Press on ! and thou shalt surely reap 

A heavenly harvest for thy toil. p. Benjamin, 



CLXXX. 

KINDNESS. 



rpiHE blessings which the weak and poor can scatter 
-*- Have their own season. 'T is a little thing 
To give a cup of water ; yet its draught 
Of cool refreshment, drained by fevered lips, 
May give a shock of pleasure to the frame 
More exquisite than when nectarean juice 
Renews the life of joy in happiest hours. 
It is a little thing to speak a phrase 
Of common comfort which by daily use 
Has almost lost its sense ; yet on the ear 
Of him who thought to die unmourned 't will fall 
Like choicest music ; fill the glazing eye 
With gentle tears ; relax the knotted hand 
To know the bonds of fellowship again ; 
And shed on the departing soul a sense 
More precious than the benison of friends 
About the honored death-bed of the rich, 
To him who else were lonely, that another 
Of the great family is near and feels. Sergeant Talfmrd. 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 251 

clxxxi. \ 
nOW 'S MY BOY? 

TTO, sailor of the sea ! 
-*■ How 's my boy — my boy ? 
" What 's your boy's name, good wife, 
And in what good ship sailed he ? " 

My boy John — 

He that went to sea — 

What care I for the ship, sailor ? 

My boy 's my boy to me. 

You come back from sea 

And not know my John ? 

I might as well have asked some landsman 

Yonder down in the town. 

There 's not an ass in all the parish 

But he knows my John. 

How 's my boy — my boy ? 

And unless you let me know 

I '11 swear you are no sailor, 

Blue jacket or no, 

Brass button or no, sailor, 

Anchor or crown or no ! 

Sure his ship was the Jolly Briton — 

" Speak low, woman, speak low ! " 

And why should I speak low, sailor ? 

About my own boy John ? 

If I was loud as I am proud 

I 'd sing him over the town ! 

Why should T speak low, sailor ? — 

" That good ship went down." 

How 's my boy — my boy ? 
What care I for the ship, sailor, 
I never was aboard her. 



252 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

Be she afloat, or be she aground, 

Sinking or swimming, I '11 be bound, 

Her owners can afford her ! 

I say, how 's my John ? — 

" Every man on board went down, 

Every man aboard her." i 

How 's my boy — my boy ? 

What care I for the men, sailor ? 

I 'm not their mother — 

How 's my boy — my boy ? 

Tell me of him and no other ! 

How 's my boy — my boy ? s. Dobell 



cxxxxn. 
EXCELSIOR. 



HHHE shades of night were falling fast, 
"^ As through an Alpine village passed 
A youth, who bore, mid snow and ice, 
A banner with the strange device, 
"Excelsior!" 

His brow was sad ; his eye beneath, 
Flashed like a falchion from its sheath ; 
And like a silver clarion rung 
The accents of that unknown tongue, ] 
" Excelsior ! " 

In happy homes he saw the light 
Of household fires gleam warm and bright ! 
Above, the spectral glaciers shone ; 
And from his lips escaped a groan, 
" Excelsior ! " 

" Try not the pass ! " the old man said ; 
" Dark lowers the tempest overhead. 
The roaring torrent is deep and wide ! " 
And loud that clarion voice replied, 
" Excelsior ! " 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 253 

* O, stay," the maiden said, " and rest 
Thy weary head upon this breast ! " — 
A tear stood in his bright blue eye ; 
But still he answered with a sigh, 
" Excelsior ! " 

" Beware the pine-tree's withered branch ! 
Beware the awful avalanche ! " 
This was the peasant's last good night ; — 
A voice replied, far up the height, 
" Excelsior ! " 

At break of day, as heavenward 
The pious monks of Saint Bernard 
Uttered their oft-repeated prayer, 
A voice cried through the startled air, 
" Excelsior ! " 

A traveller, — by the faithful hound, 
Half buried in the snow was found, 
Still grasping in his hand of ice 
That banner with the strange device, 
"Excelsior!" 

There, in the twilight cold and gray* 
Lifeless but beautiful he lay ; 
And from the sky, serene and far, 
A voice fell, like a falling star, — 

" Excelsior ! " E. W. Longfellow. 



CLXxxm. 
A PSALM OF LIFE. 

T I ^ELL me not, in mournful numbers, 

" Life is but an empty dream ! " 
For the soul is dead that slumbers, 
And things are not what they seem. 



254 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

Life is real ! Life is earnest ! 

And the grave is not its goal ; 
" Dust thou art, to dust returnest," 

Was not spoken of the soul. 

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow, 

Is our destined end or way ; 
But to act, that each to-morrow 

Find us further than to-day. 

Art is long, and Time is fleeting ; 

And our hearts, though stout and brave, 
Still, like muffled drums, are beating 

Funeral marches to the grave. 

In the world's broad field of battle, 

In the bivouac of Life, 
Be not like dumb, driven cattle ! 

Be a hero in the strife ! 

Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant ! 

Let the dead Past bury its dead ! 
Act, — act in the living Present ! 

Heart within, and God o'erhead ! 

Lives of great men all remind us 
We can make our lives sublime, 

And, departing, leave behind us 

Footprints on the sands of time ; — 

Footprints, that perhaps another, 

Sailing o'er life's solemn main, 
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother, 

Seeing, shall take heart again. 

Let us, then, be up and doing, 

With a heart for any fate ; 
Still achieving, still pursuing, 

Learn to labor and to wait. n. w. LongfeUow. 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 255 

CLXXXIV. 

TIIE LAUNCHING OF TIIE SHIP. 

A LL is finished, and at length 
-^~ Has come the bridal day 
Of beauty and of strength. 
To-day the vessel shall be launched ! 
With fleecy clouds the sky is blanched, 
And o'er the bay, 
Slowly, in all his splendors dight, 
The great sun rises to behold the sight. 

The ocean old, 

Centuries old, 

Strong as youth, and as uncontrolled, 

Paces restless to and fro, 

Up and down the sands of gold. 

His heating heart is not at rest ; 

And far and wide 

With ceaseless flow 

His beard of snow 

Heaves with the heaving of his breast 

He waits impatient for his bride. 

There she stands, 

"With her foot upon the sands, 

Decked with flags and streamers gay, 

In honor of her marriage-day, 

Her snow-white signals fluttering, blending, 

Round her like a veil descending, 

Ready to be 

The bride of the gray old sea. 

Then the Master, 

"With a gesture of command, 

Waved his hand ; 

And at the word, 

Loud and sudden there was heard, 



256 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

All around them and below, 

The sound of hammers, blow on blow, 

Knocking away the shores and spurs. 

And see ! she stirs ! 

She starts, — she moves, — she seems to feel 

The thrill of life along her keel, 

And, spurning with her foot the ground, 

With one exulting, joyous bound, 

She leaps into the ocean's arms. 

And lo ! from the assembled crowd 
There rose a shout, prolonged and loud, 
That to the ocean seemed to say, 
" Take her, O bridegroom, old and gray ; 
Take her to thy protecting arms, 
With all her youth and all her charms. ,, 

How beautiful she is ! how fair 

She lies within those arms, that press 

Her form with many a soft caress 

Of tenderness and watchful care ! 

Sail forth into the sea, O ship ! 

Through wind and wave, right onward steer ! 

The moistened eye, the trembling lip, 

Are not the signs of doubt or fear. 

Sail forth into the sea of life, 
O gentle, loving, trusting wife, 
And safe from all adversity, 
Upon the bosom of that sea 
Thy comings and thy goings be ! 
For gentleness, and love, and trust, 
Prevail o'er angry wave and gust ; 
And in the wreck of noble lives 
Something immortal still survives ! 

Thou, too, sail on, ship of State ! 
Sail on, O Union, strong and great ! 
Humanity, with all its fears, 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 257 

With all its hopes of future years, 
Is hanging breathless on thy fate ! 
"We know what Master laid thy keel, 
What workman wrought thy ribs of steel, 
Who made each mast, and sail, and rope, 
What anvils rang, what hammers beat, 
In what a forge, and what a heat, 
Were shaped the anchors of thy hope. 

Fear not each sudden sound and shock ; 

'T is of the wave, and not the rock ; 

'T is but the flapping of the sail, 

And not a rent made by the gale. 

In spite of rock and tempest roar, 

In spite of false lights on the shore, 

Sail on, nor fear to breast the sea. 

Our hearts, our hopes, are all with thee : 

Our hearts, our hopes, our prayers, our tears, 

Our faith triumphant o'er our fears, 

Are all with thee — are all with thee. 

H. W. Longfelloiff. 



CLXXXV. 
THE NEGRO'S COMPLAINT. 

T70RCED from home and all its pleasures, 
- 1 - Afric's coast I left forlorn ; 
To increase a stranger's treasures, 

O'er the raging billows borne. 
Men from England bought and sold me, 

Paid my price in paltry gold ; 
But though slave they have enrolled me, 

Minds are never to be sold. 

Still in thought as free as £ver, 
What are England's rights, I ask, 

Me from my delights to sever, 
Me to torture, me to task ? 
17 



2r>8 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

Fleecy locks and black complexion 
Cannot forfeit Nature's claim ; 

Skins may differ, but affection 

Dwells in white and black the same. 

Why did all-creating Nature 

Make the plant for which we toil ? 
Sighs must fan it, tears must water, 

Sweat of ours must dress the soil. 
Think, ye masters, iron-hearted, 

Lolling at your jovial boards ; 
Think how many backs have smarted 

For the sweets your cane affords. 

Is there, as ye sometimes tell us, 

Is there One who reigns on high ? 
Has He bid you buy and sell us, 

Speaking from His throne, the sky ? 
Ask Him, if your knotted scourges, 

Matches, blood-extorting screws, 
Are the means that duty urges 

Agents of His will to use ? 

Hark ! He answers, — wild tornadoes, 

Strewing yonder sea with wrecks, 
Wasting towns, plantations, meadows, 

Are the voice with which He speaks. 
He, foreseeing what vexations 

Afric's sons should undergo, 
Fixed their tyrants' habitation 

Where his whirlwinds answer — No. 

By our blood in Afric wasted, 

Ere our necks received the chain ; 
By the miseries that we tasted, 

Crossing in your barks the main ; 
By our sufferings since ye brought us 

To the man-degrading mart ; 
All, sustained by patience, taught us 

Only by a broken heart. 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 25 

Deem our nation brutes no longer, 

Till some reason ye shall find 
Worthier of regard, and stronger 

Than the color of our kind. 
Slaves of gold ! whose sordid dealings 

Tarnish all your boasted powers, 
Prove that you have human feelings, 

Ere you proudly question ours. w. Cwcrper. 



CLXXXVI. 
LOSS OF TEE ROYAL GEORGE. 

fT^OLL for the brave ! the brave that are no more ! 

All sunk beneath the wave, fast by their native shore ! 
Eight hundred of the brave, whose courage well was tried, 
Had made the vessel heel, and laid her on her side. 
A land-breeze shook the shrouds, and she was overset ; 
Down went the Royal George, with all her crew complete ! 

Toll for the brave ! Brave Kempenfelt is gone ; 

His last sea-fight is fought — his work of glory done. 

It was not in the battle ; no tempest gave the shock ; 

She sprang no fatal leak ; she ran upon no rock. 

His sword was in its sheath, his fingers held the pen, 

When Kempenfelt went down, with twice four hundred men. 

Weigh the vessel up, once dreaded by our foes, 
And mingle with our cup the tear that England owes ! 
Her timbers yet are sound, and she may float again, 
Full charged with England's thunder, and plow the distant main. 
But Kempenfelt is gone, his victories are o'er ; 
And he and his eight hundred shall plow the waves no more. 

W. Cowper. 



CLXXxvn. 
SLAVERY. 



o 



FOR a lodge in some vast wilderness, 
Some boundless contiguity of shade, 



260 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

Where rumor of oppression and deceit, 
Of unsuccessful or successful war, 
Might never reach me more. 

My ear is pained, 
My soul is sick, with every day's report 
Of wrong and outrage, with which earth is filled. 
There is no flesh in man's obdurate heart ; 
It does not feel for man : the natural bond 
Of brotherhood is severed as the flax 
That falls asunder at the touch of fire. 
He finds his fellow guilty of a skin 
Not colored like his own ; and having power 
To enforce the wrong, for such a worthy cause, 
Dooms and devotes him as his lawful prey. 
Lands intersected by a narrow frith 
Abhor each other. Mountains interposed 
Make enemies of nations, who had else 
Like kindred drops been mingled into one. 
Thus man devotes his brother, and destroys ; 
And worse than all, and most to be deplored, 
As human nature's broadest, foulest blot, 
Chains him, and tasks him, and exacts his sweat 
With stripes, that Mercy, with a bleeding heart, 
Weeps when she sees inflicted on a beast. 
Then what is man ? And what man, seeing this, 
And having human feelings, does not blush, 
And hang his head, to think himself a man ? 
I would not have a slave to till my ground, 
To carry me, to fan me while I sleep, 
And tremble when I wake, for all the wealth 
That sinews, bought and sold, has ever earned. 
No : dear as freedom is, and in my heart's 
Just estimation prized above all price, 
I had much rather be myself the slave, 
And wear the bonds, than fasten them on him. 
We have no slaves at home — then why abroad ? 
And they themselves once ferried o'er the wave 
That parts us, are emancipate and loosed. 
Slaves cannot breathe in England ; if their lungs 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 261 

Receive our air, that moment they are free ; 

They touch our country, and their shackles fall. 

That 's noble, and bespeaks a nation proud 

And jealous of the blessing. Spread it, then, 

And let it circulate through every vein 

Of all your empire ; that, where Britain's power 

Is felt, mankind may feel her mercy too. w. Cowper. 



CLXXXvm. 
THE SEMINOLE'S REPLY. 

X) LAZE, with your serried columns ! 
- L ^ I will not bend the knee ! 
The shackles ne'er again shall bind 

The arm which now is free. 
I 've mailed it with the thunder, 

When the tempest muttered low ; 
And where it falls, ye well may dread 

The lightning of its blow ! 

I 've scared ye in the city, 

I 've scalped ye on the plain ; 
Go, count your chosen, where they fell 

Beneath my leaden rain ! 
I scom your proffered treaty ! 

The pale-face I defy ! 
Revenge is stamped upon my spear, 

And blood my battle-cry ! 

Ye 've trailed me through the forest, 

Ye 've tracked me o'er the stream ; 
And struggling through the everglade, 

Your bristling bayonets gleam ; 
But I stand as should the warrior, 

With his rifle and his spear ; — 
The scalp of vengeance still is red, 

And warns ye, — Come not here ! 



262 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

I loathe ye in my bosom, 

I scorn ye with my eye, 
And I '11 taunt ye with my latest breath, 

And fight ye till I die ! 
I ne'er will ask ye quarter, 

And I ne'er will be your slave ; 
But I '11 swim the sea of slaughter, 

Till I sink beneath the wave ! g. W. Patten. 



CLXXXIX. 
THE THREE BEATS. 

X> OLL — roll ! — How gladly swell the distant notes 
From where, on high, yon starry pennon floats ! 
Roll — roll ! — On, gorgeously they come, 
With plumes low-stooping, on their winding way, 
"With lances gleaming in the sun's bright ray : — 
" What do ye here, my merry comrades, — say ? " — 

" We beat the gathering drum ; 
'T is this which gives to mirth a lighter tone, 
To the young soldier's cheek a deeper glow, 
When stretched upon his grassy couch, alone, 
It steals upon his ear, — this martial call 
Prompts him to dreams of gorgeous war, with all 
Its pageantry and show ! " 

Roll — roll ! — " What is it that ye beat ? " 

" We sound the charge ! — On with the courser fleet ! : — 

Where 'mid the columns, red war's eagles fly, 

We swear to do or die ! — 
'T is this which feeds the fires of Fame with breath, 
Which steels the soldier's heart to deeds of death ; 

And when his hand, 
Fatigued with slaughter, pauses o'er the slain, 
T is this which prompts him madly once again 

To seize the bloody brand ! * 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 263 

Roll — roll ! — " Brothers, what do ye here, 

Slowly and sadly as ye pass along, 
With your dull march and low funereal song ? " 

" Comrade ! we bear a bier ! 

I saw him fall ! 
And, as he lay beneath his steed, one thought, 
(Strange how the mind such fancy should have wrought !) 
That, had he died beneath his native skies, 
Perchance some gentle bride had closed his eyes 

And wept beside his pall ! " g. W. Patten. 



cxc. 
THE BATTLE OF IVRY. 

IVTOW glory to the Lord of Hosts, from whom all glories are ! 
"^ And glory to our sovereign liege, King Henry of Navarre ! 
Now let there be the merry sound of music and the dance, 
Through thy corn-fields green, and sunny vales, pleasant land 

of France ! 
And thou, Rochelle, our own Rochelle, proud city of the waters, 
Again let rapture light the eyes of all thy mourning daughters ; 
As thou wert constant in our ills, be joyous in our joy, 
For cold and stiff and still are they who wrought thy walls annoy. 
Hurrah ! hurrah ! a single field hath turned the chance of war ! 
Hurrah ! hurrah ! for Ivry and King Henry of Navarre ! 

O ! how our hearts were beating, when, at the dawn of day, 
We saw tjie army of the League draw out in long array ; 
With all its priest-led citizens, and all its rebel peers, 
And Appenzel's stout infantry, and Egmont's Flemish spears ! 
There rode the brood of false Lorraine, the curses of our land ! 
And dark Mayenne was in the midst, a truncheon in his hand ; 
And, as we looked on them, we thought of Seine's empurpled flood, 
And good Coligni's hoary hair all dabbled with his blood ; 
And we cried unto the living God, who rules the fate of war, 
To fight for His own holy name, and Henry of Navarre. 

The King has come to marshal us, in all his armor drest, 
And he has bound a snow-white plume upon his gallant crest. 



264 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

He looked upon his People, and a tear was in his eye ; 
He looked upon the traitors, and his glance was stern and high. 
Right graciously he smiled on us, as rolled from wing to wing, 
Down all our line, in deafening shout, " God save our lord, the 

King!" 
" And if my standard-bearer fall, — as fall full well he may, 
For never saw I promise yet of such a bloody fray, — 
Press where ye see my white plume shine, amid the ranks of 

war, 
And be your oriflamme, to-day, the helmet of Navarre." 

Hurrah ! the foes are moving ! Hark to the mingled din 
Of fife, and steed, and trump, and drum, and roaring culverin ! 
The fiery Duke is pricking fast across Saint Andre's plain, 
With all the hireling chivalry of Guelders and Almayne. 
Now, by the lips of those ye love, fair gentlemen of France, 
Charge for the golden lilies now, upon them with the lance ! 
A thousand spurs are striking deep, a thousand spears in rest, 
A thousand knights are pressing close behind the snow-white 

crest, 
Ajid in they burst, and on they rushed, while, like a guiding star, 
Amidst the thickest carnage blazed the helmet of Navarre. 

Now, God be praised, the day is ours ! Mayenne hath turned 

his rein, 
D'Aumale hath cried for quarter — the Flemish Count is slain ; 
Their ranks are breaking like thin clouds before a Biscay gale ; 
The flags are heaped with bleeding steeds, and flags, and cloven 

mail. 
And then we thought on vengeance, and all along our van 
" Remember Saint Bartholomew ! " was passed from man to man. 
But out spake gentle Henry, then, — " No Frenchman is my foe ; 
Down, down with every foreigner ! but let your brethren go." 
O ! was there ever such a knight, in friendship or in war, 
As our sovereign lord, King Henry, the soldier of Navarre ! 

Ho ! maidens of Vienna ! Ho ! matrons of Lucerne ! 

Weep, weep and rend your hair for those w 7 ho never shall return ! 

Ho ! Philip, send for charity thy Mexican pistoles, 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 265 

That Antwerp monks may sing a mass for thy poor spearmen's 

souls. 
Ho ! gallant nobles of the League, look that your arms be bright ! 
Ho ! burghers of St. Genevieve, keep watch and ward to-night ! 
For our God hath crushed the tyrant, our God hath raised the 

slave, 
And mocked the counsel of thev wise and the valor of the brave. 
Then glory to His holy name, from whom all glories are ! 
And glory to our sovereign lord, King Henry of Navarre ! 

T. B. Macaulay. 
♦ 

CXCI. 

THE SOLDIER FROM RING EN. 

A SOLDIER of the Legion lay dying in Algiers, 
-^*- There was lack of woman's nursing, there was dearth of 

woman's tears ; 
But a comrade stood beside him, while his life-blood ebb'd away, 
And bent, with pitying glances, to hear what he might say. 
The dying soldier faltered, as he took that comrade's hand, 
And he said, " I never more shall see my own, my native land ; 
Take a message, and a token, to some distant friends of mine, 
For I was born at Bingen — at Bingen on the Rhine. 

" Tell my brothers and companions, when they meet and crowd 

around 
To hear my mournful story, in the pleasant vineyard ground, 
That we fought the battle bravely, and when the day was done, 
Full many a corse lay ghastly pale, beneath the setting sun. 
And 'midst the dead and dying, were some grown old in wars, 
The death-wound on their gallant breasts, the last of many scars ; 
But some were young — and suddenly beheld life's morn decline ; 
And one had come from Bingen — fair Bingen on the Rhine ! 

" Tell my mother that her other sons shall comfort her old age, 
And I was aye a truant bird, that thought his home a cage ; 
For my father was a soldier, and even as a child 
My heart leaped forth to hear him tell of struggles fierce and 
wild; 



206 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

And when he died, and left us to divide his scanty hoard, 

I let them take whate'er they would, but kept my father's sword, 

And with boyish love I hung it where the bright light used to 

shine, 
On the cottage-wall at Bingen — calm Bingen on the Rhine ! 

u Tell my sister not to weep for me, and sob with drooping head, 
When the troops are marching home again, with glad and gal- 
lant tread ; 
But to look upon them proudly, w T ith a calm and steadfast eye, 
For her brother was a soldier too, and not afraid to die. 
And if a comrade seek her love, I ask her in my name 
To listen to him kindly, without regret or shame ; 
And to hang the old sword in its place (my father's sword and 

mine), 
For the honor of old Bingen — dear Bingen on the Rhine ! 

" There 's another — not a sister ; in the happy days gone by, 
You 'd have known her by the merriment that sparkled in her 

eye; 
Too innocent for coquetry, — too fond for idle scorning, — 
Oh ! friend, I fear the lightest heart makes sometimes heaviest 

mourning ; 
Tell her the last night of my life (for ere the moon be risen 
My body will be out of pain — my soul be out of prison), 
I dreamed I stood with her, and saw the yellow sunlight shine 
On the vine-clad hills of Bingen — fair Bingen on the Rhine ! 

" I saw the blue Rhine sweep along — I heard, or seemed to hear, 
The German songs we used to sing, in chorus sweet and clear ; 
And down the pleasant river, and up the slanting hill, 
The echoing chorus sounded, through the evening calm and still ; 
And her glad blue eyes were on me as we passed with friendly 

talk, 
Down many a path beloved of yore, and well-remembered walk, 
And her little hand lay lightly, confidingly in mine : 
But we '11 meet no more at Bingen — loved Bingen on the 

Rhine ! " 



STANDARD SELECTIONS, 267 

His voice grew faint and hoarser, — his grasp was childish 

weak, — 
His eyes put on a dying look — he sighed and ceased to speak : 
His comrade bent to lift him, but the spark of life had fled, — 
The soldier of the Legion, in a foreign land — was dead ! 
And the soft moon rose up slowly, and calmly she looked down 
On the red sand of the battle-field, with bloody corpses strown ; 
Yea, calmly on that dreadful scene her pale light seemed to 

shine, 
As it shone on distant Bingen — fair Bingen on the Rhine ! 

Mrs. Norton. 



CXCII. 
"GIVE ME THREE GRAINS OF CORN, MOTHER." 

/^i IVE me three grains of corn, mother, 
^-^ Only three grains of corn ; 
It will keep the little life I have, 

Till the coming of the morn. 
I am dying of hunger and cold, mother, 

Dying of hunger and cold, 
And half the agony of such a death 

My lips have never told. 

It has gnawed like a wolf, at my heart, mother, 

A wolf that is fierce for blood, — 
All the livelong day, and the night beside, 

Gnawing for lack of food. 
I dreamed of bread in my sleep, mother, 

And the sight was heaven to see, — 
I awoke with an eager, famishing lip, 

But you had no bread for me. 

How could I look to you, mother, 

How could I look to you, 
For bread to give to your starving boy, 

When you were starving too ? 
For I read the famine in your cheek, 

And in your eye so wild, 



268 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

And I felt it in your bony hand, 
As you laid it on your child. 

The queen has lands and gold, mother, 

The queen has lands and gold, 
While you are forced to your empty breast 

A skeleton babe to hold, — 
A babe that is dying of want, mother, 

As I am dying now, 
With a ghastly look in its sunken eye, 

And famine upon its brow. 

What has poor Ireland done, mother, 

What has poor Ireland done, 
That the world looks on, and sees us starve, 

Perishing, one by one ? 
Do the men of England care not, mother, 

The great men and the high, 
For the suffering sons of Erin's isle, 

Whether they live or die ? 

There is many a brave heart here, mother, 

Dying of want and cold, 
While only across the Channel, mother, 

Are many that roll in gold ; 
There are rich and proud men there, mother, 

With wondrous wealth to view, 
And the bread they fling to their dogs to-night, 

Would give life to me and you. 

Come nearer to my side, mother, 

Come nearer to my side, 
And hold me fondly, as you held 

My father when he died ; 
Quick, for I cannot see you, mother ; 

My breath is almost gone ; 
Mother ! dear mother ! ere I die, 

Give me three grains of corn. Miss Edwards. 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 269 

t 
cxcin. 

TELVS APOSTROPHE TO LIBERTY. 

/^NCE more I breathe the mountain air ; once more 

^-^ I tread my own free hills ! My lofty soul 

Throws all its fetters off; in its proud flight, 

'T is like the new-fledged eaglet, whose strong wing 

Soars to the sun it long has gazed upon 

With eye undazzled. O ! ye mighty race 

That stand like frowning giants, fixed to guard 

My own proud land ; why did ye not hurl down 

The thundering avalanche, when at your feet 

The base usurper stood ? A touch, a breath. 

Nay, even the breath of prayer, ere now, has brought 

Destruction on the hunter's head ; and yet 

The tyrant passed in safety. God of heaven ! 

Where slept thy thunderbolts ? 

Liberty I 
Thou choicest gift of Heaven, and wanting which 
Life is as nothing ; hast thou then forgot 
Thy native home ? Must the feet of slaves 
Pollute this glorious scene ? It cannot be. 
Even as the smile of Heaven can pierce the depths 
Of these dark caves, and bid the wild flowers bloom 
In spots where man has never dared to tread ; 
So thy sweet influence still is seen amid 
These beetling cliffs. Some hearts still beat for thee, 
And bow alone to Heaven ; thy spirit lives, 
Ay, — and shall live, when even the very name 
Of tyrant is forgot. 

Lo ! while I gaze 
Upon the mist that wreathes yon mountain's brow, 
The sunbeam touches it, and it becomes 
A crown of glory on his hoary head ; 
O ! is not this a presage of the dawn 
Of freedom o'er the world ? Hear me, then, bright 



270 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

And beaming Heaven ! while kneeling thus, I vow 
To live for Freedom, or with her to die ! 

O ! with what pride. I used 
To walk these hills, and look up to my God 
And bless Him that it was so. It was free, — 
From end to end, from cliff to lake 't was free, — 
Free as our torrents are, that leap our rocks, 
And plow our valleys, without asking leave ; 
Or as our peaks, that wear their caps of snow, 
In very presence of the regal sun ! 
How happy was I in it then ! I loved 
Its very storms ! Yes, I have sat and eyed 
The thunder breaking from His cloud, and smiled 
To see Him shake His lightnings o'er my head, 
And think I had no master save His own ! 

Ye know the jutting cliff, round which a track 

Up hither winds, whose base is but the brow 

To such another one, with scanty room 

For two abreast to pass ? O'ertaken there 

By the mountain blast, I 've laid me flat along, 

And while gust followed gust more furiously, 

As if to sweep me o 'er the horrid brink, 

And I have thought of other lands, whose storms 

Are summer flaws to those of mine, and just 

Have wished me there, — the thought that mine was free, 

Has checked that wish, and I have raised my head, 

And cried in thraldom to that furious wind, 

Blow on ! This is the Land of Liberty ! 

J. S. Knowles. 



\ 



CXCIV. 
WILLIAM TELL AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 

"T7 E crags and peaks : I 'm with you once again ! 

I hold to you the hands ye first beheld, 
To show they still are free. Methinks I hear 
A spirit in your echoes answer me, 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 271 

And bid your tenant welcome to his home 

Again ! — O sacred forms, how proud you look ! 

How high you lift your heads into the sky ! 

How huge you are! how mighty, and how free ! 

Ye are the things that tower, that shine, — whose smile 

Makes glad, whose frown is terrible, whose forms, 

Robed or unrobed, do all the impress wear 

Of awe divine. Ye guards of liberty, 

I 'm with you once again ! — I call to you 

With all my voice ! — I hold my hands to you, 

To show they still are free. I rush to you 

As though I could embrace you ! 

Scaling yonder peak, 

I saw an eagle wheeling near its brow 

O'er the abyss : — his broad-expanded wings 

Lay calm and motionless upon the air, 

As if he floated there without their aid, 

By the sole act of his unlorded will, 

That buoyed him proudly up. Instinctively 

I bent my brow ; yet kept he rounding still 

His airy circle, as in the delight 

Of measuring the ample range beneath 

And round about ; absorbed, he heeded not 

The death that threatened him. I could not shoot ! — 

'T was Liberty ! — I turned my bow aside, 

And let him soar away ! J. s. Knowles. 



cxcv. 
THE BARON'S LAST BANQUET. 

f\ 'ER a low couch the setting sun had thrown its latest ray, 
^-^ Where, in his last, strong agony, a dying warrior lay, — 
The stern old Baron Rudiger, whose frame had ne'er been bent 
By wasting pain, till time and toil its iron strength had spent. 

" They come around me here, and say my days of life are o'er, — 
That I shall mount my noble steed and lead my band no more ; 



272 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

They come, and, to my beard, they dare to tell me now that I, 
Their own liege lord and master born, that I — ha ! ha ! must die. 

" And what is death ? I 've dared him oft, before the Paynim 

spear ; 
Think ye he 's entered at my gate — has come to seek me here ? 
I Ve met him, faced him, scorned him, when the fight was raging 

hot; — 
I '11 try his might, I '11 brave his power ! — defy — and fear him 

not! 

" Ho ! sound the tocsin from my tower, and fire the culverin ; 
Bid each retainer arm with speed ; call every vassal in. 
Up with my banner on the wall, — the banquet board prepare, — 
Throw wide the portal of my hall, and bring my armor there ! " 

An hundred hands were busy then ; the banquet forth was spread, 
And rung the heavy oaken floor with many a martial tread ; 
"While from the rich, dark tracery, along the vaulted wall, 
Lights gleamed on harness, plume and spear, o'er the proud old 
Gothic hall. 

Fast hurrying through the outer gate, the mailed retainers poured, 
On through the portal's frowning arch, and thronged around the 

board ; 
While at its head, within his dark, carved, oaken chair of state, 
Armed cap-a-pie, stern Rudiger, with gilded falchion, sat. 

" Fill every beaker up, my men ! pour forth the cheering wine ! 
There 's life and strength in every drop, — thanksgiving to the 

vine ! 
Are ye all there, my vassals true ? — mine eyes are waxing dim : 
Fill round, my tried and fearless ones, each goblet to the brim ! 

" Ye 're there, but yet I see you not ! — forth draw each trusty 

sword, 
And let me hear your faithful steel clash once around my board ! 
I hear it faintly ! — louder yet ! What clogs my heavy breath ? 
Up, all ! — and shout for Rudiger, ' Defiance unto death ! ' ' 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 273 

Bowl rang to bowl, steel clanged to steel, and rose a deafening 

cry, 
That made the torches flare around, and shook the flags on high : 
" Ho ! cravens ! Do ye fear him ? Slaves ! traitors ! have ye 

flown ? 
Ho ! cowards, have ye left me to meet him here alone ? 

" But I defy him ! — let him come ! " Down rang the. massy 

cup, , 
While from its sheath the ready blade came flashing half-way up ; 
And, with the black and heavy plumes scarce trembling on his 

head, 
There in his dark, carved, oaken <jhair, old Rudiger sat — dead ! 

A. G. Greene. 



CXCVI. 
THE WATER DRINKER. 

f\ WATER for me ! bright water for me, 

^7 And wine for the tremulous debauchee. 

Water cooleth the brow, and cooleth the brain, • 

And maketh the faint one strong again ; 

It comes o'er the sense like a breeze from the sea, 

All freshness, like infant purity ; 

O, water, bright water, for me, for me ! 

Give wine, give wine, to the debauchee ! 

Fill to the brim ! fill, fill to the brim ; 

Let the flowing crystal kiss the rim ! 

For my hand is steady, my eye is true, 

For I, like the flowers, drink nothing but dew. 

O, water, blight water 's a mine of wealth, 

And the ores which it yieldeth are vigor and health. 

So water, pure water, for me, for me ! 

And wine for the tremulous debauchee. 

Fill again to the brim, again to the brim ! 
For water strengthened life and limb ! 
18 



274 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

To the days of the aged it addeth length, 
To the might of the strong it addeth strength ; 
It freshens the heart, it brightens the sight, 
T is like quaffing a goblet of morning light ! 
So, water, I will drink nothing but thee, 
Thou parent of health and energy ! 

When over the hills, like a gladsome bride, 
Morning walks forth in her beauty's pride, i 
And, leading a band of laughing hours, 
Brushes the dew from the nodding flowers, 
O ! cheerily then my voice is heard 
Mingling with that of the soaring bird, 
Who flingeth abroad his matin loud 
As he freshens his wing in the cold, gray cloud. 

But when evening has quitted her sheltering yew, 

Drowsily flying, and weaving anew 

Her dusky .meshes o'er land and sea, 

How gently, O sleep, fall thy poppies on me ! 

For I drink water, pure, cold, and bright, 

And my dreams are of heaven the livelong night. 

So hurrah for thee, water ! hurrah ! hurrah ! 

Thou art silver and gold, thou art ribbon and star, 



Hurrah for bright water ! hurrah ! hurrah ! 



E. Johnson, 



cxcvn. 
CHAMOUNI. 



XT AST thou a charm to stay the morning star 

A In his steep course ? So long he seems to pause 

On thy 'bald, awful head, sovereign Blanc ! 

The Arve and Arveiron at thy base 

Rave ceaselessly ; but thou, most awful form ! 

Risest from forth thy silent sea of pines, 

How silently ! Around thee and above, 

Deep is the air and dark, substantial, black, 

An ebon mass : methinks thou piercest it, 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 275 

As with a wedge. But, when I look again, 
It is thine own calm home, thy crystal shrine, 
Thy habitation from eternity ! 

dread and silent mount ! I gazed upon thee, 
Till thou, still present to the bodily sense, 

Didst vanish from my thought ; entranced in prayer, 

1 worshipped the Invisible alone. 

Yet, like some sweet, beguiling melody, — 

So sweet we know not we are listening to it, — 

Thou, the meanwhile, wast blending with my thought, 

Yea, with my life, and life's own secret joy ; 

Till the dilating soul, enrapt, transfused, 

Into the mighty vision passing — there, 

As in her natural form, swelled vast to Heaven. 

Awake, my soul ! Not only passive praise 
Thou owest ! not alone these swelling tears, 
Mute thanks, and silent ecstasy ! Awake, 
Voice of sweet song ! Awake, my heart, awake ! 
Green vales and icy cliffs ! all join my hymn. 

Thou, first and chief, sole sovereign of the vale ! 
0, struggling w T ith the darkness of the night, 
And visited all night by troops of stars, 
Or when they climb the sky, or when they sink, — 
Companion of the morning star at dawn, 
Thyself earth's rosy star, and of the dawn 
Co-herald — wake ! O wake ! and utter praise ! 
Who sank thy sunless pillars deep in earth ? 
Who filled thy countenance with rosy light ? N 

Who made thee parent of perpetual streams ? 

And you, ye five wild torrents, fiercely glad ! 
Who called you forth from night and utter death, 
From dark and icy caverns called you forth, 
Down those precipitous, black, jagged rocks, 
Forever shattered, and the same forever ? 
Who gave you your invulnerable life, 



76 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

Your strength, your speed, your fury, and your joy, 
Unceasing thunder," and eternal foam ? 
And who commanded, — and the silence came, — 
" Here let the billows stiffen, and have rest " ? 

Ye ice-falls ! ye, that, from the mountain's brow, 

Adown enormous ravines slope amain, — 

Torrents, methinks, that heard a mighty voice, 

And stopped at once amid their maddest plunge ! 

Motionless torrents ! silent cataracts ! 

Who made you glorious as the gates of heaven 

Beneath the keen full moon ? Who ba<Je the sun 

Clothe you with rainbows ? Who, with living flowers 

Of loveliest blue, spread garlands at your feet ? 

" God ! " let the torrents, like a shout of nations, 

Answer : and let the ice-plains echo, " God ! " 

" God ! " sing, ye meadow-streams, with gladsome voice ! 

Ye pine groves, with your soft and soul-like sounds ! 

And they, too, have a voice, yon piles of snow, 

And, in their perilous fall, shall thunder, " God ! " 

Ye living flowers that skirt the eternal frost ! 
Ye wild goats sporting round the eagle's nest ! 
Ye eagles, playmates of the mountain-storm ! 
Ye lightnings, the dread arrows of the clouds ! 
Ye signs and wonders of the elements ! 
Utter forth " God ! " and fill the hills with praise ! 

Once more, hoar mount ! with thy sky-pointing peaks, 

Oft from whose feet the avalanche, unheard, 

Shoots downward, glittering through the pure serene 

Into the depths of clouds, that veil thy breast — 

Thou too, again, stupendous mountain ! thou 

That as I raise my head, awhile bowed low 

In adoration, upward from thy base 

Slow travelling with dim eyes suffused with tears, — 

Solemnly seemest, like a vapory cloud, 

To rise before me — Rise, O, ever rise ! 

Rise, like a cloud of incense, from the earth ! 

Thou kingly spirit, throned among the hills ! 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 277 

Thou dread ambassador from earth to heaven, 
Great Hierarch, tell thou the silent sky, 
And tell the stars, and tell yon rising sun, 
" Earth, with her thousand voices, praises God." 

S. T. Coleridge. 
♦ 

CXCVIII. 

u HOW THEY BROUGHT THE GOOD NEWS FROM GHENT 
TO A1X." 

V SPRANG to the stirrup, and Joris, and he ; 

I galloped, Dirck galloped, we galloped all three ; 
" Good speed ! " cried the watch, as the gate-bolts undrew ; 
" Speed ! " echoed the wall to us galloping through ; 
Behind shut the postern, the lights sank to rest, 
And into the midnight we galloped abreast. 

Not a word to each other ; we kept the great pace 
Neck by neck, stride for stride, never changing our place ; 
I turned in my saddle and made its girths tight, 
Then shortened each stirrup, and set the pique right, 
Rebuckled the cheek-strap, chained slacker the bit, — 
Nor galloped less steadily Roland, a whit. 

'T was moonset at starting ; but, while we drew near 

Lokeren, the cocks crew and twilight dawned clear ; 

At Boom, a great yellow star came out to see ; 

At Duffeld, 't was morning as plain as could be ; 

And from Mechlin church-steeple we heard the half-chime, 

So Joris broke silence with " Yet there is time ! " 

At Aerschot, up leaped of a sudden the sun, 
And against him the cattle stood black every one, 
To stare through the mist at us galloping past, 
And I saw my stout galloper, Roland, at last, 
With resolute shoulders, each butting away 
The haze, as some bluff river headland its spray. 

And his low head and crest, just one sharp ear bent back 
For my voice, and the other pricked out on his track ; 



278 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

And one eye's black intelligence, — ever that glance 
O'er its white edge at me, his own master, askance ! 
And the thick heavy spume-flakes which aye and anon 
His fierce lips shook upward in galloping on. 

By Hasselt, Dirck groaned ; and cried Joris, " Stay spur ! 

Your Roos galloped bravely, the fault 's not in her, 

We '11 remember at Aix " — for one heard the quick wheeze 

Of her chest, saw the stretched neck and staggering knees, 

Ajid sunk tail, and horrible heave of the flank, 

As down on her haunches she shuddered and sank. 

So we were left galloping, Joris and I, 

Past Loos and past Tongres, no cloud in the sky ; 

The broad sun above laughed a pitiless laugh, 

'Neath our feet broke the brittle bright stubble like chaff; 

Till over by Dalhem a dome-spire sprang white, 

And " gallop," gasped Joris, " for Aix is in sight ! " 

" How they '11 greet us ! " — and all in a moment his roan 
Rolled neck and croup over, lay dead as a stone ; 
And there was my Roland to bear the whole weight 
Of the news which alone could save Aix from her fate, 
With his nostrils like pits full of blood to the brim, 
And with circles of red for his eye-sockets' rim. 

Then I cast loose my buff-coat, each holster let fall, 
Shook off both my jack -boots, let go belt and all, 
Stood up in the stirrup, leaned, patted his ear, 
Called my Roland his pet-name, my horse without peer, 
Clapped my hands, laughed and sang, any noise, bad or gc 
Till at length into Aix Roland galloped and stood. 

And all I remember is friends flocking round 
As I sate with his head 'twixt my knees on the ground, 
And no voice but was praising this Roland of mine, 
As I poured down his throat our last measure of wine, 
Which, (the burgesses voted by common consent,) 
Was no more than his due who brought good news from Ghei 

i?. Browning. 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 279 



CXCIX. 
THE S WORD. 

TT1 WAS on the battle-field ; and the cold pale moon 

Looked down on the dead and dying ; 
And the wind passed o'er with a dirge and a wail, 
Where the young and brave were lying. 

With his father's sword in his red right hand, 

And the hostile dead around him, 
Lay a youthful chief; but his bed was the ground, 

And the grave's icy sleep had bound him. 

A reckless rover, 'mid death and doom, 

Passed a soldier, his plunder seeking ; 
Careless he stepped where friend and foe 

Lay alike in their life-blood reeking. 

Drawn by the shine of the warrior's sword, 

The soldier paused beside it ; 
He wrenched the hand with a giant's strength, 

But the grasp of the dead defied it. 

He loosed his hold, and his noble heart 

Took part with the dead before him ; 
And he honored the brave who died sword in hand, 

As with softened brow he leaned o'er him. 

" A soldier's death thou hast boldly died, 

A soldier's grave won by it : 
Before I would take that sword from thine hand, 

My own life's blood should dye it. 

" Thou shalt not be left for the carrion crow, 

Or the wolf to batten o'er thee ; 
Or the coward insult the gallant dead, 

Who in life had trembled before thee." 



280 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

Then dug he a grave in the crimson earth, 

Where his warrior foe was sleeping; 
And he laid him there, in honor and rest, 

With his sword in his own brave keeping. 

Miss London. 



CC. 

TEE FIREMAN. 

XTOARSE wintry blasts a solemn requiem sung 
To the departed day, 
Upon whose bier 
The velvet pall of midnight had been flung, 

And Nature mourned through one wide hemisphere. 
Silence and darkness held their cheerless sway, 

Save in the haunts of riotous excess ; 
And half the world in dreamy slumbers lay, 
Lost in the maze of sweet forgetfulness. 
When lo ! upon the startled ear, 
There broke a sound so dread and drear, — 
As, like a sudden peal of thunder, 
Burst the bands of sleep asunder, 
And filled a thousand throbbing hearts with fear. 

Hark ! the faithful watchman's cry 
Speaks a conflagration nigh ! — 
See ! yon glare upon the sky 
Confirms the fearful tale. 
The deep-mouthed bells with rapid tone, 
Combine to make the tidings known ; 
Affrighted silence now has flown, 
And sounds of terror freight the chilly gale ! 

At the first note of this discordant din, 

The gallant fireman from his slumber starts ; 

Reckless of toil and danger, if he win 
The tributary meed of grateful hearts. 
From pavement rough, or frozen ground, 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 281 

His engine's rattling wheels resound, 
And soon before his eyes 
The lurid flames, with horrid glare, 
Mingled with murky vapors rise, 
In wreathy folds upon the air, 

And veil the frowning skies ! 

Sudden a shriek assails his heart, — 

A female shriek, so piercing wild, 
As makes his very life-blood start : — 

" My child ! Almighty God, my child ! " 
He hears,- 
And 'gainst the tottering wall 

The ponderous ladder rears : 
While blazing fragments round him fall, 

And crackling sounds assail his ears, 
His sinewy arm, with one rude crash, 
Hurls to the earth the opposing sash ; * 

And, heedless of the startling din, 
Though smoky volumes round him roll, 
The mother's shriek has pierced his soul, — 

See ! see ! he plunges in ! 
The admiring crowd, with hopes and fears, 

In breathless expectation stands, 
When, lo ! the daring youth appears, 
Hailed by a burst of warm, ecstatic cheers, 
Bearing the child triumphant in his arms. 

Anonymous, 
o 

CCI. 
SPEAK GENTLY. 

OPEAK gently: it is better far 
^ To rule by love than fear. 
Speak gently : let no harsh words mar 
The good we might do here. 

Speak gently ; love doth whisper low 
The vows that true hearts bind ; 



282 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

And gently friendship's accents flow, — 
Affection's voice is kind. 

Speak gently to the little child, 

Its love be sure to gain ; 
Teach it in accents soft and mild, — 

It may not long remain. 

Speak gently to the young ; for they 

Will have enough to bear : 
Pass through this life as best we may, 

'T is full of anxious care. 

Speak gently to the aged one, 
Grieve not the care-worn heart ; 

The sands of life are nearly run, — 
Let such in peace depart. 

Speak gently, kindly to the poor ; 

Let no harsh tone be heard ; 
They have enough they must endure, 

Without an unkind word. 

Speak gently to the erring ; — know 

They must have toiled in vain ; 
Perchance unkindness made them so ; — 

O ! win them back again. 

Speak gently ! He who gave His life 

To bend man's stubborn will, 
When elements were fierce with strife, 

Said to them, " Peace ! be still." 

Speak gently : 't is a little thing 
Dropped in the heart's deep well ; 

The good, the joy which it may bring, 

Eternity shall tell. Anonymous. 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 283 



THE PASSIONS. 

IT^HEN Music, heavenly maid, was young, 

While yet in early Greece she sung, 
The Passions oft, to hear her shell, 
Thronged around her magic cell 
Exulting, trembling, raging, fainting, 
Possessed beyond the Muse's painting ; 
By turns they felt the glowing mind 
Disturbed, delighted, raised, refined : 
Till once, 't is said, when all were fired, 
Filled with fury, rapt, inspired, 
From the supporting myrtles round 
They snatched her instruments of sound, 
And, as they oft had heard apart 
Sweet lessons of her forceful art, 
Each, for Madness ruled the hour, 
Would prove his own expressive power. 

First Fear his hand, its skill to try, 
Amid the chords bewildered laid, 

And back recoiled, he knew not why, 
E'en at the sound himself had made. 

Next Anger rushed, his eyes on fire, 
In lightnings owned his secret stings ; 

In one rude clash he struck the lyre, 

And swept with hurried hand the strings. 

With woeful measures wan Despair — 
Low sullen sounds his grief beguiled, 

A solemn, strange, and mingled air, 
'T was sad by fits, by starts 't was wild. 



But thou, O Hope ! with eyes so fair, 
What was thy delighted measure ? 



284 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

Still it whispered promised pleasure, 

And bade the lovely scenes at distance hail ! 
Still would her touch the strain prolong ; 

And from the rocks, the woods, the vale, 
She called on Echo still through all the song ; 

And, where her sweetest notes she chose, 

A soft responsive voice was heard at every close ; 
And Hope enchanted smiled, and waved her golden hair ; — 

And longer had she sung : — but with a frown, 

Revenge impatient rose : 
He threw the blood-stained sword in thunder down ; 

And with a withering look 
The war-denouncing trumpet took 
And blew a blast so loud and dread, 
Were ne'er prophetic sounds so full of woe ! 

And ever and anon he beat 

The doubling drum with furious heat ; 
And, though sometimes, each dreamy pause between, 

Dejected Pity, at his side, 

Her soul-subduing voice applied, 
Yet still he kept his wild unaltered mien, 
While each strained ball of sight seemed bursting from his head. 

Thy numbers, Jealousy, to nought were fixed : 

Sad proof of thy distressful state ! 
Of differing themes the veering song was mixed ; 

And now it courted Love, now raving called on Hate. 

With eyes upraised, as one inspired, 

Pale Melancholy sat retired ; 

And, from her wild, sequestered seat, 

In notes, by distance made more sweet, 

Poured through the mellow horn her pensive soul : 

And, dashing soft from rocks around, 

Bubbling runnels joined the sound ; 
Through glades and g!ooms the mingled measure stole, 
Or, o'er some haunted stream, with fond delay, 

Round a holy calm diffusing, 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 285 

Love of peace, and lonely musing, 
In hollow murmurs died away. 

But O ! how altered was its sprightlier tone, 
When Cheerfulness, a nymph of healthiest hue, 

Her bow across her shoulder flung, 

Her buskins gemmed with morning dew, 
Blew an inspiring air, that dale and thicket rung ! — 

The hunter's call to Faun and Dryad known ! 
The oak-crowned Sisters and their chaste-eyed Queen, 

Satyrs and Sylvan Boys, were seen, 

Peeping from forth their alleys green : 
Brown Exercise rejoiced to hear ; 

And Sport leaped up, and seized his beechen spear. 

Last came Joy's ecstatic trial : 
He, with viny crown advancing, 

First to the lively pipe his hand addrest : 
But soon he saw the brisk, awakening viol, 

Whose sweet, entrancing voice he loved the best. 
They would have thought, who heard the strain, 
They saw, in Tempi's vale, her native maids, 
Amidst the festal-sounding shades, 
To some unwearied minstrel dancing ; 
While, as his flying fingers kissed the strings, 

Love framed with Mirth a gay fantastic round : — 

Loose were her tresses seen, her zone unbound ; — 

And he, amidst his frolic play, 

As if he would the charming air repay, 
Shook thousand odors from his dewy wings. 

W. Collins. 



ccm. 
NEW ENGLAND. 



"TT AIL to the land whereon we tread, 

Our fondest boast ; 
The sepulchre of mighty dead, 
The truest hearts that ever bled, 



286 THE UKION SPEAKER. 

Who sleep on glory's brightest bed, 

A fearless host : 
No slave is here — our unchained feet 
Walk freely, as the waves that beat 

Our coast. 

Our fathers crossed the ocean's wave 

To seek this shore ; 
They left behind the coward slave 
To welter in his living grave ; — 
With hearts unbent, and spirits brave, 

They sternly bore 
Such toils as meaner souls had quelled ; 
But souls like these, such toils impelled 

To soar. 

Hail to the morn, when first they stood 

On Bunker's height, 
And, fearless stemmed the invading flood, 
And wrote our dearest rights in blood, 
And mowed in ranks the hireling brood, 

In desperate fight ! 
O ! 't was a proud, exulting day, 
For even our fallen fortunes lay 

In light. 

There is no other land like thee, 

No dearer shore ; 
Thou arfrthe shelter of thefree ; 
The home, the port of liberty 
Thou hast been, and shalt ever be, 

Till time is o'er. 
Ere I forget to think upon 
Thy land, shall mother curse the son 

She bore. 

Thou art the firm unshaken rock, 

On which we rest ; 
And rising from thy hardy stock, 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 287 

Thy sons the tyrant's frown shall mock, 
And slavery's galling chains unlock, 

And free the oppressed : 
All, who the wreath of freedom twine, 
Beneath the shadow of their vine 

Are blest. 

We love thy rude and rocky shore, 

And here we stand — 
Let foreign navies hasten o'er, 
And on our heads their fury pour, 
And peal their cannon's loudest roar, 

And storm our land : 
They still shall find, our lives are given 
To die for home ; — and leant on Heaven 

Our hand. J. g. Percival 



CCIV. 
SONG FOR SAINT CECILIA'S DAT. 

T7ROM Harmony, from heavenly Harmony • 

This universal frame began : 
When Nature underneath a heap 

Of jarring atoms lay 
And could not heave her head, 
The tuneful voice was heard from high, 

Arise, ye more than dead ! 
Then cold, and hot, and moist, and dry, 
In order to their stations leap, 

And Music's power obey. 
From harmony, from heavenly harmony 

This universal frame began : 

From harmony to harmony 
Through all the compass of the notes it ran, 
The diapason closing full in Man. 

What passion cannot Music raise and quell ? 
When Jubal struck the chorded shell 



288 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

His listening brethren stood around, 
And, wondering, on their faces fell 
To worship that celestial sound. 

Less than a God they thought there could not dwell 
Within the hollow of that shell 
That spoke so sweetly and so well. 

What passion cannot Music raise and quell ? 

The trumpet's loud clangor 

Excites us to arms, 
With shrill notes of anger 

And mortal alarms. 
The double double double beat 
Of the thundering drum, 
Cries, " Hark ! the foes come ; 
Charge, charge, 't is too late to retreat ! * 

The soft complaining flute 
In dying notes discovers 
The woes of hopeless lovers, 
Whose dirge is whispered by the warbling lute. 

Sharp violins proclaim 
Their jealous pangs and desperation, 
Fury, frantic indignation, 
Depth of pains, and height of passion 

For the fair disdainful dame. 



What human voice can reach 

The sacred Organ's praise ? 
Notes inspiring holy love, 
Notes that wing their heavenly ways 

To mend the choirs above. 

Orpheus could lead the savage race, 
And trees uprooted left their place, 

Sequacious of the lyre ; 
But bright Cecilia raised the wonder higher ; 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 289 

When to her Organ vocal breath was given, 
An angel heard, and straight appeared — 
Mistaking earth for heaven ! 

As from the power of sacred lays 

The spheres began to move, 
And sung the great Creator's praise 

To all the blest above ; 
So when the last and dreadful hour 
This crumbling pageant shall devour, 
The trumpet shall be heard on high, 
The dead shall live, the living die, 
And Music shall untune the sky. j. Dryden. 



ccv. 

TEE SAILOR'S SONG. 

rriHE sea ! the sea ! the open sea ! 
A The blue, the fresh, the ever free ! 
Without a mark, without a bound, 
It runneth the earth's wide regions round ; 
It plays with the clouds ; it mocks the skies ; 
Or like a cradled creature lies. 

I 'm on the sea ! I'mon the sea ! 

I am where I would ever be ; 

With the blue above, and the blue below, 

And silence wheresoe'er I go ; 

If a storm should come and awake the deep, 

What matter ? / shall ride and sleep. 

I love, O how I love to ride 
On the fierce, foaming, bursting tide, 
When every mad wave drowns the moon, 
Or whi.-tles aloft his tempest tune, 
And tells how goeth the world below, 
And why the sou'west blasts do blow. 
19 



290 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

I never was on the dull, tame shore, 
But I loved the great sea more and more, 
And backward flew to her billowy breast, 
Like a bird that seeketh its mother's nest ; 
And a mother she was and is to me ; 
For I was born on the open sea ! 

The waves were white, and red the morn, 
In the noisy hour when I was born ; 
And the whale it whistled, the porpoise rolled, 
And the dolphins bared their backs of gold ; 
And never was heard such an outcry wild 
As welcomed to life the ocean-child ! 

I 've lived since then, in calm and strife, 

Full fifty summers a sailor's life, 

With wealth to spend and a power to range, 

But never have sought nor sighed for change ; 

And Death, whenever he comes to me, 

Shall come on the wild, unbounded sea ! b. W. Proctor. 



ccvi. 
NAPOLEON. 



XT IS falchion flashed along the Nile ; 

His hosts he led through Alpine snows ; 
O'er Moscow's towers, that blazed the while, 
His eagle flag unrolled, — and froze. 

Here sleeps he now, alone ! Not one 
Of all the kings, whose crowns he gave, 

Bends o'er his dust ; — nor wife, nor son, 
Has ever seen or sought his grave. 

Behind this sea-girt rock, the star 

That led him on from crown to crown, 

Has sunk ; and nations from afar 
Gazed as it faded and went down. 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 291 

High is his couch ; — the ocean flood, 

Far, far below, by storms is curled ; 
As round him heaved, while high he stood, 

A stormy and unstable world. 

Alone he sleeps ! The mountain cloud 

That night hangs round him, and the breath 

Of morning scatters, is the shroud 

That wraps the conqueror's clay in death. 

Pause here ! The far-off world, at last, 

Breathes free ; the hand that shook its thrones, 

And to the earth its mitres cast, 

Lies powerless now beneath these stones. 

Hark ! comes there, from the pyramids, 

Ajid from Siberian wastes of snow, 
Ajid Europe's hills, a voice that bids 

The world he awed to mourn him ? No : 

The only, the perpetual dirge 

.That 's heard there, is the sea-bird's cry, — 

The mournful murmur of the surge, — 

The cloud's deep voice, the wind's low sigh. 

J. Pierpont. 

» 

CCVII. 
WARREN'S ADDRESS AT BUNKER HILL. 

O TAND ! the ground 's your own, my braves ! 

Will ye give it up to slaves ? 
Will ye look for greener graves ? 

Hope ye mercy still ? 
What 's the mercy despots feel ? 
Hear it in that battle peal ! 
Read it on yon bristling steel ! 

Ask it — ye who will. 



Fear ye foes who kill for hire ? 
Will ye to your homes retire ? 



292 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

Look behind you ! they 're a-fire ! 

And, before you, see — 
Who have done it ! — from the vale 
On they come ! — and will ye quail ? — 
Leaden rain and iron hail 

Let their welcome be ! 

In the God of battles trust ! 

Die we may, — and die we must ; — 

But, O ! where can dust to dust 

Be consigned so well, 
As where heaven its dews shall shed 
On martyred patriot's bed, 
And the rocks shall raise their head, 

Of his deeds to tell ! 

J. Pierpont. 



ccvm. 

TUANATOPSIS. 

^pO him who, in the love of Nature, holds , 
-*■ Communion with her visible forms, she speaks 
A various language. For his gayer hours 
She has a voice of gladness, and a smile 
And eloquence of beauty ; and she glides 
Into his darker musings, with a mild 
And gentle sympathy, that steals away 
Their sharpness ere he is aware. When thoughts 
Of the last bitter hour come like a blight 
Over thy spirit, and sad images 
Of the stern agony, and shroud, and pall, 
And breathless darkness, and the narrow hotise, 
Make thee to shudder, and grow sick at heart, — 
Go forth under the open sky, and list 
To Nature's teachings, while from all around — 
Earth and her waters, and the depths of air — 
Comes a still voice : — Yet a few days, and thee 
The all-beholding sun shall see no more 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 293 

In all his course ; nor yet in the cold ground, 

Where thy pale form was laid, with many tears, 

Nor in the embrace of ocean, shall exist 

Thy image. Earth, that nourished thee, shall claim 

Thy growth, to be resolved to earth again ; 

And, lost each human trace, surrendering up 

Thine individual being, shalt thou go 

To mix forever with the elements, 

To be a brother to the insensible rock, 

And to the sluggish clod which the rude swain 

Turns with his share, and treads upon. The oak 

Shall send his roots abroad, and pierce thy mould. 

Yet not to thine eternal resting-place 

Shalt thou retire alone — nor couldst thou wish 

Couch more magnificent. Thou shalt lie down 

With patriarchs of the infant world, — with kings, 

The powerful of the earth, — the wise, the good, 

Fair forms, and hoary seers of ages past, — 

All in one mighty sepulchre. — The hills 

Rock-ribbed and ancient as the sun ; the vales 

Stretching in pensive quietness between ; 

The venerable woods ; rivers that move , 

In majesty, and the complaining brooks 

That make the meadows green ; and, poured round all, 

Old ocean's gray and melancholy waste, — 

Are but the solemn decorations all 

Of the great tomb of man. The golden sun, 

The planets, all the infinite host of heaven, 

Are shining on the sad abodes of death, 

Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread 

The globe are but a handful to the tribes 

That slumber in its bosom. Take the wings 

Of morning, and traverse Barca's desert sands ; 

Or lose thyself in the continuous woods 

Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound 

Save his own dashings, — yet — the dead are there, 

And millions in those solitudes, since first 

The flight of years began, have laid them down 

In their last sleep ; — the dead reign there alone. — 



294 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

So shalt thou rest — and what if thou withdraw 
In silence from the living, and no friend 
Take note of thy departure ? All that breathe 
Will share thy destiny. The gay will laugh 
When thou art gone, the solemn brood of care 
Plod on, and each one, as before, will chase 
His favorite phantom ; yet all these shall leave 
Their mirth and their employments, and shall come 
And make their bed with thee. As the long train 
Of ages glides away, the sons of men — 
The youth in life's green spring, and he who goes 
In the full strength of years, matron and maid, 
And the sweet babe, and the gray-headed man — 
Shall, one by one, be gathered to thy side, 
By those who in their turn shall follow them. 

So live that when thy summons comes to join 
The innumerable caravan, which moves 
To that mysterious realm, where each shall take 
His chamber in the silent halls of death, 
Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night 
Scourged to his dungeon ; but, sustained and soothed 
By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave, 
Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch 
About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams. 

W. C. Bryant. 



CCTX. 

THE AFRICAN CHIEF. 

/CHAINED in the market-place he stood, 
^-^ A man of giant frame, 
Amid the gathering multitude 

That shrunk to hear his name, — 
All stern of look and strong of limb, 

His dark eye on the ground ; 
And silently they gazed on him, 

As on a lion bound. 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 295 

Vainly, but well, that chief had fought — 

He was a captive now ; 
Yet pride, that fortune humbles not, 

Was written on his brow : 
The scars his dark broad bosom wore 

Showed warrior true and brave : 
A prince among his tribe before, 

He could not be a slave. 

Then to his conqueror he spake — 

" My brother is a king : 
Undo this necklace from my neck, 

And take this bracelet ring, 
And send me where my brother reigns, 

And I will fill thy hands 
With store of ivory from the plains, 

And gold dust from the sands." 

— " Not for thy ivory nor thy gold 

Will I unbind thy ohain ; 
That bloody hand shall never hold 

The battle-spear again. 
A price thy nation never gave 

Shall yet be paid for thee ; 
For thou shalt be the Christian's slave, 

In land beyond the sea." 

Then wept the warrior chief, and bade 

To shred his locks away, 
And, one by one, each heavy braid 

Before the victor lay. 
Thick were the platted locks, and long, 

And deftly hidden there .« 

Shone many a wedge of gold among 

The dark and crisped hair. 

" Look, feast thy greedy eye with gold, 
Long kept for sorest need : 



296 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

Take it — thou askest sums untold — 

And say that I am freed. 
Take it — my wife, the long, long day, 

Weeps by the cocoa-tree, 
And my young children leave their play, 

And ask in vain for me." 

— "I take thy gold, — but I have made 

Thy fetters fast and strong, 
And ween that by the cocoa shade 

Thy wife shall wait thee long." 
Strong was the agony that shook 

The captive's frame to hear, 
And the proud meaning of his look 

Was changed to mortal fear. 

His heart was broken — crazed his brain — 

At once his eye grew wild : 
He struggled fiercely with his chain, 

Whispered, — and wept, — and smiled ; 
Yet wore not long those fatal bands, 

And once, at shut of day, 
They drew him forth upon the sands, — 

The foul hyena's prey. w. C. Bryant. 



ccx. 
TEE BATTLE-FIELD. 

/^VNCE this soft turf, this rivulet's sands, 
^-^ Were trampled by a hurrying crowd, 
And fiery hearts and armed hands 
Encounter'd in the battle-cloud. 

Ah ! never shall the land forget 

How gush'd the life-blood of her brave, — 
Gush'd, warm with hope and courage yet, 

Upon the soil they fought to save. 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 297 

Now all is calm, and fresh, and still ; 

Alone the chirp of flitting bird, 
And talk of children on the hill, 

And bell of wandering kine, are heard. 

No solemn host goes trailing by 

The black-mouth'd gun and staggering wain ; 
Men start not at the battle-cry : 

Oh, be it never heard again ! 

Soon rested those who fought ; but thou 

Who minglest in the harder strife 
For truths which men receive not now, 

Thy warfare only ends with life. 

A friendless warfare ! lingering long 

Through weary day and weary year ; 
A wild and many-weapon'd throng 

Hang on thy front, and flank, and rear. 

Yet nerve thy spirit to the proof, 

And blench not at thy chosen lot ; 
The timid good may stand aloof, 

The sage may frown — yet faint thou not, 

Nor heed the shaft too surely cast, 

The foul and hissing bolt of scorn ; 
For with thy side shall dwell, at last, 

The victory of endurance born. 

Truth, crushed to earth, shall rise again ; 

The eternal years of God are hers ; 
But Error, wounded, writhes in pain, 

And dies among his worshippers. 

Yea, though thou lie upon the dust, 

When they who help'd thee flee in fear, 

Die full of hope and manly trust 
Like those who fell in battle here. 



298 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

Another hand thy sword shall wield, 

Another hand the standard wave, 
Till from the trumpet's mouth is peal'd 

The blast of triumph o'er thy grave, w. C. Bryant. 



ccxi. 
HALLOWED GROUND. 

\JU HAT 'S hallowed ground ! Has earth a clod 
Its Maker meant not should be trod 

By man, the image of his God, 
Erect and free, 

Unscourged by Superstition's rod 
To bow the knee ? 

That 's hallowed ground — where mourned and missed, 
The lips repose our love has kissed ; — 
But where 's their memory's mansion ? Is 't 

Yon churchyard's bowers ? 
No ; in ourselves their souls exist, 

A part of ours. 

What hallows ground where heroes sleep ? 
'T is not the sculptured piles you heap ! 
In dews that heavens far distant weep, 

Their turf may bloom ; 
Or genii twine beneath the deep 
Their coral tomb. 

But strew his ashes to the wind 

Whose sword or voice has served mankind — 

And is he dead, whose glorious mind 

Lifts thine on high ? 
To live in hearts we leave behind 

Is not to die. 

Is 't death to fall for freedom's right ? 
He 's dead alone that lacks her light. ! 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 299 

And murder sullies in Heaven's sight 

The sword he draws : — 
What can alone ennoble fight ? 

A noble cause ! 

Give that ! and welcome war to brace 

Her drams ! and rend heaven's reeking space ! 

The colors painted face to face, 

The charging cheer, 
Though Death's pale horse led on the chase, 

Shall still be dear ! 

And place our trophies where men kneel 

To Heaven ! — but Heaven rebukes my zeal ! 

The cause of truth and human weal, 

O God above ! 
Transfer it from the sword's appeal 

To peace and love ! 

Peace, love ! the cherubim, that join 

Their spread wings o'er devotion's shrine ; — 

Prayers sound in vain, and temples shine 

Where they are not ; — 
The heart alone can make divine 

Religion's spot. 

To incantations dost thou trust, 
And pompous rites in domes august ? 
See mouldering stones and metals' rust 

Belie the vaunt, 
That man can bless one pile of dust 

With chime or chant. 

Fair stars ! are not your beings pure ? 
Can sin, can death your worlds obscure ? 
Else why so swell the thoughts at your 

Aspect above ? 
Ye must be Heaven's that make us sure 

Of heavenly love ! 



300 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

And in your harmony sublime 

I read the doom of distant time ; 

That man's regenerate soul from crime 

Shall yet be drawn, 
And reason on his mortal clime 

Immortal dawn. 

What 's hallowed ground ? 'T is what gives birth 
To sacred thoughts in souls of worth ! — 
Peace ! independence ! truth ! go forth 

Earth's compassed round ; 
And your high-priesthood shall make earth 

All hallowed ground. t. Campbell 



ccxn. 
THE EXILE OF ERIN. 

t INHERE came to the beach a poor exile of Erin,— 

The dew on his thin robe was heavy and chill ; 
For his country he sighed, when, at twilight, repairing 

To wander alone by the wind-beaten hill : 
But the day-star attracted his eye's sad devotion ; 
For it rose o'er his own native isle of the ocean, 
Where once, in the fervor of youth's warm emotion, 

He sung the bold anthem of " Erin go bragh ! " 

" Sad is my fate ! " said the heart-broken stranger — 
" The wild deer and wolf to the covert can flee ; 

But I have no refuge from famine and danger : 
A home and a country remain not to me ! 

Never again in the green sunny bowers, 

Where my forefathers lived, shall I spend the sweet hours, 

Or cover my harp with wild woven flowers, 

And strike to the numbers of ' Erin go bragh ! ' 

" Erin ! my country ! though sad and forsaken, 
In dreams I revisit thy sea-beaten shore ! 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 301 

But, alas ! in a far, foreign land I awaken. 

And sigh for the friends who can meet me no more ! 

cruel fate, wilt thou never replace me 

In a mansion of peace, where no perils can chase me ? 

Never again shall my brothers embrace me ! 
They died to defend me ! — or live to deplore ! 

" Where is my cabin-door, fast by the wild wood ? 

Sisters and sire, did ye weep for its fall ? 
Where is the mother that looked on my childhood ? 

And where is the bosom-friend, dearer than all ? 
Ah ! my sad soul, long abandoned by pleasure ! 
Why did it'dote on a fast-fading treasure ? 
Tears, like the rain-drops, may fall without measure, 

But rapture and beauty they cannot recall ! 

" Yet all its sad recollections suppressing, 

One dying wish my lone bosom can draw ; — • 

Erin ! an exile bequeaths thee his blessing ! 
Land of my forefathers ! Erin go bragh ! 

Buried and cold, when my heart stills her motion, 

Green be thy fields, sweetest isle of the ocean ! 

And thy harp-striking bards sing aloud with devotion, — 
1 Erin mavournin — Erin go bragh ! ' " T. CampbeU, 



ccxni. 
LORD ULLIWS DAUGHTER. 

A CFTIEFTAIN to the Highlands bound, 
~*-*- Cries, " Boatman, do not tarry ! 
And I '11 give thee a silver pound 
To row us o'er the ferry ! " 

" Now who be ye, would cross Lochgyle, 

Th's dark and stormy water?" 
" O I'm the chief of Ulva's isle. 

And this, Lord Ullin's daughter. 



302 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

" And fast before her father's men 
Three days we 've fled together, 

For should he find us in the glen, 
My blood would stain the heather. 

" His horsemen hard behind us ride — 
Should they our steps discover, 

Then who will cheer my bonny bride, 
When they have slain her lover ! " 

Out spoke the hardy highland wight, 
" 1 11 go, my chief, I 'm ready : 

It is not for your silver bright, 
But for your winsome lady : — 

" And by my word ! the bonny bird 
In danger shall not tarry ; 
• So, though the waves are raging white, 
I '11 row you o'er the ferry." 

By this the storm grew loud apace, 
The water-wraith was shrieking ; 

And, in the scowl of heaven, each face 
Grew dark as they were speaking. 

But still as wilder blew the wind, 
And as the night grew drearer, 

Adown the glen rode armed men, — 
Their trampling sounded nearer. 

" O haste thee, haste ! " the lady cries, 
" Though tempests round us gather ; 

I '11 meet the raging of the skies, 
But not an angry father." 

The boat has left a stormy land, 
A stormy sea before her, — 

When, ! too strong for human hand, 
The tempest gathered o'er her. 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 303 

And still they rowed amidst the roar 

Of waters fast prevailing : 
Lord Ullin reached that fatal shore, — 

His wrath was changed to wailing ! 

For, sore dismayed, through storm and shade 

His child he did discover : — 
One lovely hand she stretched for aid, 

And one was round her lover. 

"Come back ! Come back ! " he cried in grief, 

" Across this stormy water : 
And I '11 -forgive your Highland chief, 

My daughter ! — O my daughter ! " 

'T was vain : the loud waves lashed the shore, 

Return or aid preventing : 
The waters wild went o'er his child, 

And he was left lamenting. t. CampMl 



o 



CCXIV. 
FALL OF WARSAW. 

! SACRED Truth ! thy triumph ceased awhile, 
And Hope, thy sister, ceased with thee to smile, 



When leagued Oppression poured to Northern wars 
Her whiskered pandours and her fierce hussars, 
Waved her dread standard to the breeze of morn, 
Pealed her loud drum, and twanged her trumpet horn ; 
Tumultuous horror brooded o'er her van, 
Presaging wrath to Poland — and to man ! 

Warsaw's last champion from her heights surveyed, 
Wide o'er the fields a waste of ruin laid — 
O Heaven ! he cried, my bleeding country save ! 
Is there no hand on high to shield the brave ? • 
Yet, though destruction sweep these lovely plains, 
Rise, fellow-men ! our country yet remains ! 
By that dread name, we wave the sword on high, 



804 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

And swear for her to live ! — with her to die ! 

He said ; and on the rampart heights arrayed 
His trusty warriors, few, but undismayed ; 
Firm paced and slow, a horrid front they form, 
Still as the breeze, but dreadful as the storm ; 
Low, murmuring sounds along their banners fly, — 
" Revenge, or death ! " — the watchword and reply ; 
Then pealed the notes, omnipotent to charm, 
And the loud tocsin tolled their last alarm ! 

In vain, alas ! in vain, ye gallant few ! 
From rank to rank your volleyed thunder flew ; — 
O ! bloodiest picture in the book of Time, 
JSarmatia fell, unwept, without a crime ; 
Found not a generous friend, a pitying foe, 
Strength in her arms, nor mercy in her woe ! 
Dropped from her nerveless grasp the shattered spear, 
Closed her bright eye, and curbed her high career. 
Hope for a season bade the world farewell, 
And Freedom shrieked, as Kosciusko fell ! 

O righteous Heaven ! ere Freedom found a grave, 
Why slept the sword, omnipotent to save ? 
Where was thine arm, vengeance ! where thy rod, 
That smote the foes of Sion and of God ? 

Departed spirits of the mighty dead ! 
Ye that at Marathon and Leuctra bled ! 
Friends of the world ! restore your swords to man, 
Fight in his sacred cause, and lead the van ! 
Yet for Sarmatia's tears of blood atone, 
And make her arm puissant as your own ! 
! once again to Freedom's cause return 
The patriot Tell, — the Bruce of Bannockburn ! 

Yes, thy proud lords, unpitied land ! shall see 
That man hath yet a soul, — and dare be free ! 
A little while,* along thy saddening plains,. 
The starless night of Desolation reigns ; 
Truth shall restore the light by Nature given, 
And, like Prometheus, bring the fire of Heaven ! 
Prone to the dust Oppression shall be hurled, 
Her name, her nature, withered from the world ! 

T. Campbell. 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 305 

ccxv. 

nOHENLINDEN. 

/^VN Linden, when the sun was low, 
^-^ All bloodless lay the untrodden snow ; 
And dark as winter was the flow 
Of Iser, rolling rapidly. 

But Linden saw another sight, 
When the drum beat at dead of night, 
Commanding fires of death to light 
The darkness of her scenery. 

By torch and trumpet fast arrayed, 
Each horseman drew his battle-blade, 
And furious every charger neighed 
To join the dreadful revelry. 

Then shook the hills with thunder riven. ; 
Then rushed the steed, to battle driven ; 
And louder than the bolts of Heaven 
Far flashed the red artillery. 

But redder yet that light shall glow, 
On Linden's hills of stained snow ; 
And bloodier yet the torrent flow 
Of Iser, rolling rapidly. 

'T is morn ; but scarce yon level sun 
Can pierce the war-clouds, rolling dun, 
Where furious Frank and fiery Hun 
Shout in their sulphurous canopy. 

The combat deepens. On, ye Brave 
Who rush to glory, or the grave ! 
Wave, Munich, all thy banners wave, 
And charge with all thy chivalry ! 



806 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

Few, few shall part, where many meet ! 
The snow shall be their winding-sheet, 
And every turf beneath their feet 

Shall be a soldier's sepulchre. T. CampbeU. 



ccxvi. 
WAR-SONG OF TEE GREEKS, 1822. 

A GAIN to the battle Achaians ! 

Our hearts bid the tyrants defiance ; 
Our land, — the first garden of Liberty's tree — 
It has been, and shall yet be, the land of the free ; 

For the cross of our faith is replanted, 

The pale, dying crescent is daunted, 
And we march that the footprints of Mahomet's slaves 
May be washed out in blood from our forefather's graves. 

Their spirits are hovering o'er us, 

And the sword shall to glory restore us. 

Ah ! what though no succor advances, 
Nor Christendom's chivalrous lances 

Are stretched in our aid ? — Be the combat our own ! 

And we '11 perish or conquer more proudly alone ; 
For we 've sworn by our country's assaulters, 
By the virgins they 've dragged from our altars, 

By our massacred patriots, our children in chains, 

By our heroes of old, and their blood in our veins, — 
That living we will be victorious, 
Or that dying, our deaths shall be glorious. 

A breath of submission we breathe not ; 

The sword that we 've drawn we will sheathe not ; 
Its scabbard is left where our martyrs are laid, 
And the vengeance of ages has whetted its blade. 

Earth may hide — waves engulf — fire consume us, 

But they shall not to slavery doom us : 
If they rule, it shall be o'er our ashes and graves, — 
But we 've smote them already with fire on the waves, 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 307 

And new triumphs on land are before us. 

To the charge ! — Heaven's banner is o'er us 1 

This day — shall ye blush for its story ? 

Or brighten your lives with its glory ? — 
Our women — O say, shall they shriek in despair, 
Or embrace us from conquest, with wreaths in their hair ? 

Accursed may his memory blacken, 

If a coward there be that would slacken, 
Till we've trampled the turban, and shown ourselves worth 
Being sprung from, and named for, the godlike of earth. 

Strike home ! — and the world shall revere us 

As heroes descended from heroes. 

Old Greece lightens up with emotion 
Her inlands, her isles of the ocean : 
Fanes rebuilt, and fair towns, shall with jubilee sing, 
And the Nine shall new-hallow their Helicon's spring. 
Our hearths shall be kindled with gladness, 
That were cold, and extinguished in sadness ; 
Whilst our maidens shall dance with their white waving arms, 
Singing joy to the brave that delivered their charms, — 
When the blood of yon Mussulman cravens 
Shall have crimsoned the beaks of our ravens. 

T. Campbell 



CCXVII. 

TIIE FLIGHT OF XERXES. 

T SAW him on the battle-eve 

When like a king he bore him ; 
Proud hosts in glittering helm and greave, 

Ajid prouder chiefs, before him. 
The warrior and the warrior's deeds, 
The morrow and the morrow's meeds, — 

No daunting thought came o'er him ; 
He looked around him, and his eye 
Defiance flashed to earth and sky. 



308 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

He looked on ocean, — its broad breast 

Was covered with his fleet : 
On earth, — and saw from east to west 

His bannered millions meet ; 
While rock, and glen, and cave, and coast, 
Shook with the war-cry of that host, 

The thunder of their feet ! 
He heard the imperial echoes ring, — 
He heard, and felt himself a king. 

I saw him next alone ; — nor camp 

Nor chief his steps attended ; 
Nor banner blazed, nor courser's tramp 

With war-cries proudly blended. 
He stood alone, whom Fortune high 
So lately seemed to deify, 

He, who with Heaven contended, 
Fled like a fugitive and slave ! — 

Behind, the foe ; before, the wave ! 

He stood — fleet, army, treasure, gone — 

Alone, and in despair ! 
But wave and wind swept ruthless on, 

For they were monarchs there ; 
And Xerxes, in a single bark, 
Where late his thousand ships were dark 

Must all their fury dare. 
What a revenge, a trophy, this, 
For thee, immortal Salamis ! Miss Jewsbury. 



ccxvm. 
OLD IRONSIDES. 



\ Y, tear her tattered ensign down ! 
^*- Long has it waved on high, 
And many an eye has danced to see 
That banner in the sky ; — 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 309 

Beneath it rung the battle shout, 

And burst the cannon's roar ; 
The meteor of the ocean air 

Shall sweep the clouds no more. 

Her deck, once red with heroes' blood, 

Where knelt the vanquished foe, 
When winds were hurrying o'er the flood, 

And waves were white below, 
No more shall feel the victor's tread, 

Or know the conquered knee ; 
The harpies of the shore shall pluck 

The eagle of the sea ! 

O, better that her shattered hulk 

Should sink beneath the wave ! 
Her thunders shook the mighty deep, 

And there should be her grave ! 
Nail to the mast her holy flag, 

Set every threadbare sail, 
And give her to the god of storms — 

The lightning and the gale ! Q. w. Holmes. 



ccxix. 

CHARGE OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE. 

TT ALF a league, half a league, 

Haifa league onward, 
All in the valley of Death 

Rode the six hundred. 
" Forward, the Light Brigade ! 
Charge for the guns ! " he said. 
Into the valley of Death, 

Rode the six hundred. 

" Forward, the Light Brigade ! " 
Was there a man dismayed ? 



, 






310 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

Not though the soldier knew 
Some one had blundered ; 
Theirs not to make reply, 
Theirs not to reason why, 
Theirs but to do and die : 
Into the valley of death 
Rode the six hundred. 

Cannon to right of them, 
Cannon to left of them, 
Cannon in front of them 

Volleyed and thundered : 
Stormed at with shot and shell, 
Boldly they rode and well, 
Into the jaws of Death, 
Into the mouth of hell, 

Rode the six hundred. 

Flashed all their sabres bare, 
Flashed as they turned in air, 
Sabring the gunners there, 
Charging an army, while 

All the world wondered : 
Plunged in the battery smoke, 
Right through the line they brol^e 
Cossack and Russian 
Reeled from the sabre stroke, 

Shattered and sundered ; 
Then they rode back, but not — 

Not the six hundred. 

Cannon to right of them, 
Cannon to left of them, 
Cannon behind them, 

Volleyed and thundered : 
Stormed at with shot and shell, 
While horse and hero fell, 
They that had fought so well, 
Came through the jaws of hell, 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 311 

All that was left of them, 
Left of six hundred. 

"When can their glory fade ? 
O, the wild charge they made ! 

All the world wondered. 
Honor the charge they made ! 
Honor the Light Brigade, ♦ 

Noble six hundred ! A. Tennyson, 



ccxx. 
ARNOLD W1NKELREID. 

H li/T AKE way for liberty ! " — he cried ; 
XTJ. Jtfade W ay for liberty, and died ! — 
It must not be : this day, this hour, 
Annihilates the oppressor's power ! 
All Switzerland is in the field, 
She will not fly, she cannot yield, — 
She must not fall ; her better fate 
Here gives her an immortal date. 
Few were the numbers she could boast ; 
But every freeman was a host, 
And felt as though himself were he, 
On whose sole arm hung victory. 

It did depend on one indeed ; 

Behold him, — Arnold Winkelreid ! 

There sounds not to the trump of fame 

The echo of a nobler name. 

Unmarked he stood among the throng, 

In rumination deep and long, 

Till you might see, with sudden grace, 

The very thought come o'er his face ; 

And, by the motion of his form, 

Anticipate the bursting storm ; 

And, by the uplifting of his brow, 

Tell where the bolt would strike, a.nd how.> 



312 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

But 't was no sooner thought than done, — 
The field was in a moment won ! 
" Make way for liberty ! " he cried, 
Then ran, with arms extended wide, 
As if his dearest friend to clasp ; 
Ten spears he swept within his grasp : 
" Make way for liberty ! " he cried — 
Their keen points met from side to side ; 
He bowed amongst them like a tree, 
And thus made way for liberty. 

Swift to the breach his comrades fly : 

" Make way for liberty ! " they cry, 

And through the Austrian phalanx dart, 

As rushed the spears through Arnold's heart ; 

While, instantaneous as his fall, 

Eout, ruin, panic, scattered all : 

An earthquake could not overthrow 

A city with a surer blow. 

Thus Switzerland again was free ; 

Thus Death made way for liberty ! /. Montgomery. 



CCXXl. 
NEW ENGLAND'S DEAD. 

lVTEW ENGLAND'S dead ! — New England's dead ! 

On every hill they lie ; 
On every field of strife made red 

By bloody victory. 
Each valley, where the battle poured 

Its red and awful tide, 
Beheld the brave New England sword, 

With slaughter deeply dyed. 
Their bones are on the northern hill, 

And on the southern plain, 
By brook and river, lake and rill, 

And by the roaring main. 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 313 

The land is holy where they fought, 

And holy where they fell ; 
For by their blood that land was bought, 

The land they loved so well. 
Then glory to that valiant band, 
The honored saviours of the land ! 

! few and weak their numbers were, — 
A handful of brave men ; 

But to their God they gave their prayer, 

And rushed to battle then. 
The God of battles heard their cry, 
And sent to them the victory. 

They left the ploughshare in the mould, 

Their flocks and herds without a fold, 

The sickle in the unshorn grain, 

The corn, half-garnered on the plain, 

And mustered in their simple dress, 

For wrongs to seek a stern redress ; 

To right those wrongs, come weal, come woe, — 

To perish or o'ercome their foe. 

And where are ye, fearless men ? 
And where are ye to-day ? 

1 call : — the hills reply again 

That ye have passed away ; 
That on old Bunker's lonely height, 

In Trenton, and in Monmouth ground, 
The grass grows green, the harvest bright, 

Above each soldier's mound. 
The bugle's wild and warlike blast 

Shall muster them no more ; 
An army now might thunder past, 

And they not heed its roar. 
The starry llag, 'neath which they fought, 

In many a bloody day, 
From their old graves shall rouse them not ; 

For they have passed away. /. M'Lellan. 



314 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

ccxxn. 

NEVER GIVE UP. 

"VTEVER give up ! — it is wiser and better 
-^ Always to hope, than once to despair ; — 
Fling off the load of doubt's cankering fetters, 
And break the dark spell of tyrannical care. 

Never give up, or the burden may sink you, — 
Providence kindly has mingled the cup ; 

And in all trials and troubles bethink you, 

The watchword of life must be, " Never give up ! " 

Never give up ; there are chances and changes, 
Helping the hopeful, a hundred to one, 

And through the chaos, High Wisdom arranges g 
Ever success, if you '11 only hold on. 

Never give up ; for the wisest is boldest, 
Knowing that Providence mingles the cup, 

And of all maxims, the best, as the oldest, 
Is the stern watchword of " Never give up ! " 

Never give up, though the grape-shot may rattle, 
Or the full thunder-cloud over you burst ; 

Stand like a rock, and the storm or the battle 
Little shall harm you, though doing their worst. 

Never give up ; if adversity presses, 

Providence wisely has mingled the cup ; 

And the best counsel in all your distresses 

Is the brave watchword of " Never give up ! " 

Anonymom. 



CCXXIII. 
MARCO BOZZARIS. 



A 



T midnight, in his guarded tent, 

The Turk was dreaming of the hour, 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 315 

When Greece, her knee in suppliance bent, 

Should tremble at his power : 
In dreams, through camp and court he bore 
The trophies of a conqueror ; 

In dreams his song of triumph heard ; 
Then wore his monarch's sijmet ring ; 
Then pressed that monarch's throne — a king ; — 
As wild his thoughts, and gay of wing, 

As Eden's garden bird. 

At midnight, in the forest shades, 

Bozzaris ranged his Suliote band, 
True as the steel of their tried blades, 

Heroes in heart and hand. 
There had the Persian's thousands stood, — 
There had the glad earth drunk their blood, 

On old Platan's day ; 
And now there breathed that haunted air 
The sons of sires who conquered there, 
"With arm to strike, and soul to dare, 

As quick, as far as they. 

An hour passed on — the Turk awoke ; 

That bright dream was his last ; 
He woke to hear his sentries shriek, 

" To arms ! they come ! the Greek ! the Greek \ n 
He "woke — to die midst flame and smoke, 
And shout, and groan, and sabre-stroke, 

And death-shots falling thick and fast 
As lightnings from the mountain-cloud ; 
And heard, with voice as trumpet-loud, 

Bozzaris cheer his band : 
u Strike — till the last armed foe expires ; 
Strike — for your altars and your fires ; 
Strike — for the green graves of your sires, — 

God — and your native land ! " 

They fought — like brave men, long and well ; 
They piled that ground with Moslem slain ; 



316 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

They conquered — but Bozzaris fell, 

Bleeding at every vein. 
His few surviving comrades saw 
His smile when rang their proud hurrah, 

And the red field was won : 
Then saw in death his eyelids close 
Calmly, as to a night's repose, 

Like flowers at set of sun. 

Come to the bridal-chamber, Death ! 

Come to the mother, when she feels, 
For the first time, her first-born's breath ; 

Come when the blessed seals 
That close the pestilence are broke, 
And crowded cities wail its stroke ; 
Come in Consumption's ghastly form, 
The earthquake shock, the ocean storm ; 
Come when the heart beats high and warm, 

With banquet-song, and dance, and wine, — 
And thou art terrible ! — The tear, 
The groan, the knell, the pall, the bier, 
And all we know, or dream, or fear 

Of agony, are thine. 

But to the hero, when his sword 

Has won the battle for the free, 
Thy voice sounds like a prophet's word ; 
And in its hollow tones are heard • 

The thanks of millions yet to be. 

Bozzaris ! with the storied brave, 
Greece nurtured in her glory's time, 

Rest thee — there is no prouder grave, 
Even in her own proud clime. 

We tell thy doom without a sigh ; 

For thou art Freedom's now, and Fame's, — 
One of the few, the immortal names 

That were not bom to die ! f. G. HaUeck. 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 317 



CCXXIY. 
THE AMERICAN FLAG. 

"TTTHEN freedom, from her mountain height, 

Unfurled her standard to the air, 
She tore the azure robe of night, 

And set the stars of glory there ! 
She mingled with its gorgeous dyes 
The milky baldric of the skies, 
And striped its pure celestial white 
With streakings of the morning light ; 
Then, from his mansion in the sun, 
She called her eagle bearer down, 
And gave into his mighty hand 
The symbol of her chosen land ! 

Majestic monarch of the cloud ! 

Who rear'st aloft thy regal form, 
To hear the tempest-trumpings loud, 
And see the lightning's lances driven, 

When strive the warriors of the storm, 
And rolls the thunder-drum of heaven ! 
Child of the sun ! to thee 't is given 

To guard the banner of the free, 
To hover in the sulphur smoke, 
To ward away the battle stroke, — 
And bid its blendings shine afar, 
Like rainbows on the cloud of war, — 

The harbingers of victory ! 

Flag of the brave ! thy folds shall fly, 
The sign of hope and triumph high, 
When speaks the signal trumpet tone, 
And the long line comes gleaming on. 
Ere yet the life-blood, warm and wet, 
Has dimmed the glistening bayonet, 
Each soldier's eye shall brightly turn 
To where thy sky-born glories burn ; 



318 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

And as his springing steps advance, 
Catch war and vengeance from the glance. 
And when the cannon-mouthings loud 
Heave in wild wreaths the battle-shroud, 
And gory sabres rise and fall, 
Like shoots of flame on midnight's pall ; 
Then shall thy meteor-glances glow, 

And cowering foes shall sink beneath 
Each gallant arm that strikes below 

That lovely messenger of death. 

Flag of the seas ! on ocean wave 
Thy stars shall glitter o'er the brave ; 
"When death, careering on the gale, 
Sweeps darkly round the bellied sail, 
And frighted waves rush wildly back 
Before the broadside's reeling rack, 
Each dying wanderer of the sea 
Shall look at once to heaven and thee, 
And smile to see thy splendors fly 
In triumph o'er his closing eye. 

Flag of the free heart's hope and home ! 

By angel hands to valor given ; 
Thy stars have lit the welkin dome, 

And all thy hues were born in heaven. 
Forever float, that standard sheet ! 

Where breathes the foe but falls before us, 
"With Freedom's soil beneath our feet, 

And Freedom's banner streaming o'er us ! 

J. R. Drake. 
- » - - 

ccxxv. 
TEE WIDOW OF GLENCOE. 

DO not lift him from the bracken, leave him lying where he 
fell — 
Better bier ye cannot fashion : none beseems him half so well 
As the bare and broken heather, and the hard and broken sod, 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 319 

Whence his angry soul ascended -to the judgment-seat of God! 
Winding-sheet we cannot give him — seek no mantle for the 

dead, 
Save the cold and spotless covering showered from heaven upon 

his 'head. 
Leave his broadsword as we found it, rent and broken with the 

blow, 
That, before he died, avenged him on the foremost of the foe. 
Leave the blood upon the bosom — wash not off that sacred 

stain ; 
Let it stiffen on the tartan, let his wounds unclosed remain, 
Till the day when he shall show them at the throne of God on 

high, 
When the murderer and the murdered meet before their Judge's 

eye. 
Nay — ye should not weep, my children ! leave it to the faint 

and weak ; 
Sobs are but a woman's weapons — tears befit a maiden's cheek. 
Weep not, children of Macdonald ! weep not thou, his orphan 

heir; 
Not in shame, but stainless honor, lies thy slaughtered father 

there ; 
Weep not — but when years are over, and thine arm is strong 

and sure, 
And thy foot is swift and steady on the mountain and the muir, 
Let thy heart be hard as iron, and thy wrath as fierce as fire, 
Till the hour when vengeance cometh for the race that slew thy 

sire ! 
Till in deep and dark Glenlyon rise a louder shriek of woe, 
Than at midnight, from their eyry, scared the eagles of Glencoe ; 
Louder than the screams that mingled with the howling of the 

blast, 
When the murderers' steel was clashing, and the fires were rising 

fast ; 
When thy noble father bounded to the rescue of his men, 
And the slogan of our kindred pealed throughout the startled 

glen; 
When the herd of frantic women stumbled through the midnight 

snow, 



320 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

With their fathers' houses blazing, and their dearest dead below ! 
Oh, the horror of the tempest, as the flashing drift was blown, 
Crimsoned with the conflagration, and the roofs went thundering 

down ! 
Oh, the prayers, the prayers and curses, that together winged 

their flight 
From the maddened hearts of many, through that long and woful 

night ! — 
Till the fires began to dwindle, and the shots grew faint and few, 
And we heard the foeman's challenge only in a far halloo : 
Till the silence once more settled o'er the gorges of the glen, 
Broken only by the Cona plunging through its naked den. 
Slowly from the mountain summit was the drifting veil with- 
drawn, 
And the ghastly valley glimmered in the gray December dawn. 
Better had the morning never dawned upon our dark despair ! 
Black amidst the common whiteness rose the spectral ruins there : 
But the sight of these was nothing more than wrings the wild 

dove's breast, 
When she searches for her offspring round the relics of her nest. 
For in many a spot the tartan peered above the wintry heap, 
Marking where a dead Macdonald lay within his frozen sleep. 
Tremblingly we scooped the covering from each kindred victim's 

head, 
And the living lips were burning on the cold ones of the dead. 
And I left them with their dearest — dearest charge had every 

one — 
Left the maiden with her lover, left the mother with her son. 
I alone of all was mateless — far more wretched I than they, 
For the snow would not discover where my lord and husband 

lay. 
But I wandered up the valley, till I found him lying low, 
With the gash upon his bosom, and the frown upon his brow — 
Till I found him lying murdered where he wooed me long ago. 

Woman's weakness shall not shame me — why should I have 

tears to shed ? 
Could I rain them down like water, O my hero ! on thy head — 
Could the cry of lamentation wake thee from thy silent sleep, 





STANDARD SELECTIONS. 321 

Could it set thy heart a-throbbing, it were mine to wail and 

weep ! 
But I will not waste my sorrow, lest the Campbell women say 
That the daughters of Clanranald are as weak and frail as they. 
I had wept thee, hadst thou fallen, like our fathers, on thy shield, 
When a host of English foemen camped upon a Scottish field. 
I had mourned thee, hadst thou perished with the foremost of his 

name, 
When the valiant and the noble died around the dauntless 

Graeme ! 
But I will not wrong thee, husband, with my unavailing cries, 
Whilst thy cold and mangled body, stricken by the traitor, lies ; 
Whilst he counts the gold and glory that this hideous night has 

won, 
And his heart is big with triumph at the murder he has done. 
Other eyes than mine shall glisten, other hearts be rent in twain, 
Ere the heath-bells on thy hillock wither in the autumn rain. 
Then I '11 seek thee where thou sleepest, and I '11 veil my weary 

head, 
Praying for a place beside thee, dearer than my bridal-bed : 
And I '11 give thee tears, my husband, if the tears remain to me, 
When the widows of the foeman cry the coronach for thee ! 

W. E. Ayloun. 



ccxxvi. 
BURIAL OF SIR JOHN MOORE. 

""VTOT a drum was heard, not a funeral note, 
. As his corpse to the rampart we hurried ; 
Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot 
O'er the grave where our hero we buried. 

We buried him darkly, at dead of night, 
The sods with our bayonets turning ; 

By the struggling moonbeam's misty light, 
And the lantern dimly burning. 

No useless coffin enclosed his breast, 

Not in sheet nor in shroud we wound him ; 
21 



322 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

But he lay like a warrior taking his rest 
With his martial cloak around him. 



Few and short were the prayers we said, 

And we spoke not a word of sorrow, 
But we steadfastly gazed on the face that was dead, 

And we bitterly thought of the morrow. 

We thought, as we hollowed his narrow bed, 

And smoothed down his lonely pillow, 
That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head, 

And we far away on the billow ! 

Lightly they '11 talk of the spirit that 's gone, 

And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him, — 
But little he '11 reck, if they let him sleep on 

In the grave where a Briton has laid him. 

But half of our heavy task was done 

When the clock struck the hour for retiring ; 

And we heard the distant and random gun 
That the foe was sullenly firing. 

Slowly and sadly we laid him down, 

From the field of his fame fresh and gory ; 

We carved not a line, and we raised not a stone — 
But we left him alone with his glory. c. Wolfe. 



ccxxvu. 
THE MANIAC. 



TAY, jailer, stay, and hear my woe ! 
^ She is not mad who kneels to thee, 
For what I 'm now, too well I know, 

And what I was, and what should be. 

1 '11 rave no more in proud despair ; 

My language shall be mild, though sad 
But yet I firmly, truly swear, 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 323 

My tyrant husband forged the tale 

Which chains me in this dismal cell ; 
My fate unknown my friends bewail — 

Oh ! jailer, haste that fate to tell ; 
Oh ! haste my father's heart to cheer : 

His heart at once 't will grieve and glad 
To know, though kept a captive here, 

I am not mad, I am not mad. 

He smiles in scorn, and turns the key ; 

He quits the grate ; I knelt in vain ; 
His glimmering lamp still, still I see — 

'T is gone ! and all is gloom again. 
Cold, bitter cold ! — No warmth ! no light ! — 

Life, all thy comforts once I had ; 
Yet here I 'm chained, this freezing night, 

Although not mad ; no, no, not mad. 

'T is sure some dream — some vision vain ! 

What ! I, — the child of rank and wealth, — 
Am I the wretch who clanks this chain, 

Bereft of freedom, friends, and health ? 
Ah ! while I dwell on blessings fled, 

Which never more my heart must glad, 
How aches my heart, how burns my head ; 

But 't is not mad ; no, 't is not mad. 

Hast thou, my child, forgot, ere this, 

A mother's face, a mother's tongue ? 
She '11 ne'er forget your parting kiss, 

Nor round her neck how fast you clung ; 
Nor how with her you sued to stay ; 

Nor how that suit your sire forbade ; 
Nor how — I '11 drive such thoughts away ! 

They '11 make me mad, they '11 make me mad 

His rosy lips, how sweet they smiled ! 

His mild blue eyes, how bright they shone ! 



324 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

None ever bore a lovelier child : 
And art thou now forever gone ? 

And must I never see thee more, 
My pretty, pretty, pretty lad ? 

I will be free ! unbar the door ! 
I am not mad, I am not mad. 

Oh ! hark ! what mean those yells and cries ? 

His chain some furious madman breaks ; 
He comes ! — I see his glaring eyes ; 

Now, now, my dungeon-grate he shakes — 
Help ! help ! — He 's gone ! — Oh ! fearful woe, 

Such screams to hear, such sights to see ! 
My brain, my brain, — I know, I know, 

I am not mad, but soon shall be. 

Yes, soon ; for lo you ! — while I speak — 

Mark how yon demon's eyeballs glare ! 
He sees me ; now, with dreadful shriek, 

He whirls a serpent high in air. 
Horror ! — the reptile strikes his tooth 

Deep in my heart, so crushed and sad ; — 
Ay, laugh, ye fiends ; — I feel the truth ; 

Your task is done — I 'm mad ! I 'm mad ! 

Lewis. 



CCXXVIII. 
RIENZl TO THE ROMANS. 

"PRIENDS ! 

-*- I come not here to talk. Ye know too well 
The story of our thraldom. We are slaves ! 
The bright sun rises to his course, and lights 
A race of slaves ! He sets, and his last beam 
Falls on a slave ; not such, as swept along 
By the full tide of power, the conqueror leads 
To crimson glory and undying fame, — 
But base, ignoble slaves ! — slaves to a horde 
Of petty tyrants, feudal despots; lords, 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 32fr 

Rich in some dozen paltry villages ; 

Strong in some hundred spearmen ; only great 

In that strange spell — a name ! Each hour, dark fraud 

Or open rapine, or protected murder, 

Cries out against them. But this very day, 

An honest man, my neighbor, — there he stands — 

Was struck — struck like a dog, by one who wore 

The badge of Ursini ! because, forsooth, 

He tossed not high his ready cap in air, 

Nor lifted up his voice in servile shouts, 

At sight of that great ruffian ! Be we men, 

And suffer such dishonor ? — men, and wash not 

The stain away in blood ? 

Such shames are common. 
I have known deeper wrongs. I, that speak to ye, 
I had a brother once, a gracious boy, 
Full of all gentleness, of calmest hope, 
Of sweet and quiet joy ; there was the look 
Of Heaven upon his face, which limners give 
To the beloved disciple. How I loved 
That gracious boy ! Younger by fifteen years, 
Brother at once and son ! He left my side, 
A summer bloo'rn on his fair cheeks — a smile 
Parting his innocent lips. In one short hour, 
The pretty, harmless boy was slain ! I saw 
The corse, the mangled corse, and then I cried 
For vengeance ! Rouse, ye Romans ! Rouse, ye slaves ! 
Have ye brave sons ? — Look in the next fierce brawl 
To see them die ! Have ye fair daughters ? — Look 
To see them live, torn from your arms, distained, 
Dishonored ; and, if ye dare call for justice, 
Be answered by the lash ! Yet, this is Rome, 
That sate on her seven hills, and from her throne 
Of beauty ruled the world ! Yet, we are Romans. 
Why in that elder day to be a Roman 
Was greater than a King ! And once again — 
Hear me, ye walls that echoed to the tread 
Of either Brutus ! — once again I swear 
The Eternal City shall be free ! Miss Mitford. 



326 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

CCXXIX. 
THE BELL OF THE "ATLANTIC:' 

nnoLL, toil, toil ! 

Thou bell by billows swung, 
And, night and day, thy warning words 

Repeat with mournful tongue ! 
Toll for the queenly boat, 

Wrecked on yon rocky shore ! 
Sea-weed is in her palace halls, — 

She rides the surge no more. 

Toll for the master bold, 

The high-souled and the brave, 
"Who ruled her like a thing of life 

Amid the crested wave ! 
Toll for the hardy crew, 

Sons of the storm and blast, 
Who long the tyrant ocean dared ; 

But it vanquished them at last. 

Toll for the man of God, 

Whose hallowed voice of prayer 
Rose calm above the stifled groan 

Of that intense despair ! 
How precious were those tones, 

On that sad verge of life, 
Amid the fierce and freezing storm, 

And the mountain billows' strife ! 

Toll for the lover, lost 

To the summoned bridal train ! 
Bright glows a picture on his breast, 

Beneath th' unfathomed main. 
One from her casement gazeth 

Long o'er the misty sea : 
He cometh not, pale maiden, — 

His heart is cold to thee ! 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 327 

Toll for the absent sire, 

Who to his home drew near, 
To bless a glad, expecting group, — 

Fond wife, and children dear ! 
They heap the blazing hearth, 

The festal board is spread, 
But a fearful guest is at the gate ; — 

Room for the sheeted dead ! 

Toll for the loved and fair, 

The whelmed beneath the tide, — 
The broken harps around whose strings 

The dull sea-rnonsters glide ! 
Mother and nursling sweet, 

Reft from the household throng ; 
There 's bitter weeping in the nest 

Where breathed their soul of song. 

Toll for the hearts that bleed 

'Neath misery's furrowing trace ; 
Toll for the hapless orphan left, 

The last of all his race ! 
Yea, with thy heaviest knell, 

From surge to rocky shore, 
Toll for the living, — not the dead, 

Whose mortal woes are o'er. 

Toll, toll, toll ! 

O'er breeze and billow free ; 
And with thy startling lore instruct 

Each rover of the sea. 
Tell how o'er proudest joys 

May swift destruction sweep, 
And bid him build his hopes on high, — 

Lone teacher of the deep ! 

Mrs. Sigourney. 



328 THE UNION SrEAKER. 

ccxxx. 

TEE STRUGGLE FOR FAME. 

TF thou wonldst win a lasting fame, — 

■*■ If thou the immortal wreath wouldst claim, 

And make the future bless thy name, — 

Begin thy perilous career, 

Keep high thy heart, thy conscience clear, 

And walk thy way without a fear. 

And if thou hast a voice within, 
That ever whispers, " Work and win," 
And keeps thy soul from sloth and sin ; — 

If thou canst plan a noble deed, 

And never flag till it succeed, 

Though in the strife thy heart should bleed ; — 

If thou canst struggle day and night, 
And, in the envious world's despite, 
Still keep thy cynosure in sight ; — 

If thou canst bear the rich man's scorn, 
Nor curse the day that thou wert born 
To feed on husks, and he on corn ; — 

If thou canst dine upon a crust, 
And still hold on with patient trust, 
Nor pine that fortune is unjust ; — 

If thou canst see, with tranquil breast, 
The knave or fool in purple dressed, 
Whilst thou must walk in tattered vest ; — 

If thou canst rise ere break of day, 
And toil and moil till evening gray, 
At thankless work, for scanty pay ; — 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 329 

If in thy progress to renown 

Thou canst endure the scoff and frown 

Of those who strive to, pull thee down ; — 

If thou canst bear the averted face, 

The gibe, or treacherous embrace, 

Of those who run the self-same race ; — 

If thou in darkest days canst find 
An inner brightness in thy mind, 
To reconcile thee to thy kind : — 

Whatever obstacles control, 

Thine hour will come — go on — true soul ! 

Thou 'It win the prize, thou 'It reach the goal. 

If not — what matters ? Tried by fire, 

And purified from low desire, 

Thy spirit shall but soar the higher. 

Content and hope thy heart shall buoy, 

And men's neglect shall ne'er destroy 

Thy secret peace, thy inward joy ! a Machay. 



ccxxxi. 
THE SAILOR-BOTS DREAM. 

TN slumbers of midnight, the sailor-boy lay ; 

His hammock swung loose at the sport of the wind ; 
But watch-worn and weary his cares flew away, 
And visions of happiness danced o'er his mind. 

He dreamt of his home, of his dear native bowers, 
And pleasures that waited on life's merry morn ; 

While memory stood sideways, half covered with flowers, 
And restored every rose, but secreted its thorn. 



330 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

Then fancy her magical pinions spread wide, 
And bade the young dreamer in ecstasy rise — 

Now, far, far behind him* the green waters glide, 
And the cot of his forefathers blesses his eyes. 

The jessamine clambers in flower o'er the thatch, 

And the swallow sings sweet from her nest in the wall ; 

All trembling with transport he raises the latch, 
And the voices of loved ones reply to his call. 

A father bends o'er him with looks of delight ; 

His cheek is impearled with a mother's warm tear, 
And the lips of the boy in a love-kiss unite 

With the lips of the maid whom his bosom holds dear. 

The heart of the sleeper beats high in his breast ; 

Joy quickens his pulse — all hardships seem o'er, 
And a murmur of happiness steals through his rest — 

" O God, thou hast blest me — I ask for no more." 

Ah ! what is that flame, which now bursts on his eye ? 

Ah ! what is that sound which now larums his ear ? 
'T is the lightning's, red glare painting hell on the sky ! 

'T is the crash of the thunder, the groan of the sphere ! 

He springs from his hammock — he flies to the deck ; 

Amazement confronts him with images dire — 
Wild winds and mad waves drive the vessel a wreck — 

The masts fly in splinters — the shrouds are on fire ! 

O, sailor-boy ! woe to thy dream of delight ! 

In darkness dissolves the gay frostwork of bliss — 
Where now is the picture that fancy touched bright, 

Thy parents' fond pressure, and love's honeyed kiss ! 

! sailor-boy ! sailor-boy ! never again 

Shall home, love, or kindred thy wishes repay ; 

Unblessed and unhonored, down deep in the main, 
Full many a score fathom, thy frame shall decay. 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 331 

No tomb shall e'er plead to remembrance for thee, 
Or redeem form or frame from the merciless surge ; 

But the white foam of waves sluill thy winding-sheet be, 
And winds in the midnight of winter thy dirge. 

On beds of green sea-flower thy limbs shall be laid ; 

Around thy white bones the red coral shall grow ; 
Of thy fair yellow locks threads of amber be made, 

And every part suit to thy mansion below. 

Days, months, years, and ages shall circle away, 
And still the vast waters above thee shall roll ; 

Earth loses thy pattern forever and aye — 

O sailor-boy ! sailor-boy ! peace to thy soul ! Dimond. 



ccxxxn. 
ON TEE ENTRY OF THE AUSTRIAN S INTO NAPLES. 

A Y, down to the dust with them, slaves as they are ! 
^"*- From this hour let the blood in their dastardly veins, 
That shrunk from the first touch of Liberty's war, 
Be sucked out by tyrants, or stagnate in chains ! 

On — on, like a cloud, through their beautiful vales, 
Ye locusts of tyranny ! — blasting them o'er : 

Fill — fill up their wide, sunny waters, ye sails, 

From each slave-mart in Europe, and poison their shore. 

May their fate be a mockword — may men of all lands 
Laugh out with a scorn that shall ring to the poles, 

When each sword that the cowards let fall from their hands, 
Shall be forged into fetters to enter their souls ! 

And deep, and more deep, as the iron is driven, 
Base slaves ! may the whet of their agony be, 

To think — as the damned haply think of the heaven 

They had once in their reach, — that they might have been 
free. 



332 THE UKION SPEAKER. 

Shame ! shame ! when there was not a bosom whose heat 
Ever rose o'er the zero of Castlereagh's heart, 

That did not, like Echo, your war-hymn repeat, 

And send back its prayers with your Liberty's start ! 

Good God ! that in such a proud moment of life, 
Worth ages of history — when, had you but hurled 

One bolt at your bloody invader, that strife 

Between freemen and tyrants had spread through the world I 

That then — O, disgrace upon manhood ! e'en then 

You should falter — should cling to your pitiful breath, 

Cower down into beasts, when you might have stood men, 
And prefer a slave's life to a glorious death ! 

It is strange ! — it is dreadful ! Shout, Tyranny, shout 
Through your dungeons and palaces, " Freedom is o'er " — 

If there lingers one spark of her fire, tread it out, 
And return to your empire of darkness once more. 

For if such are the braggarts that claim to be free, 
Come, Despot of Russia, thy feet let me kiss, 

Far nobler to live the brute-bondman of thee, 

Than sully even chains" by a struggle like this. t. Mowe. 



ccxxxni. 
TEE BATTLE ETMN OF THE BERLIN LANDSTURM. 

"TT'ATHER of earth and heaven ! I call thy name ! 
"** Round me the smoke and shout of battle roll ; 
Mine eyes are dazzled with the rustling flame ; 
Father, sustain an untried soldier's soul. 
Or life, or death, whatever be the goal 
That crowns or closes round this struggling hour, 

Thou knowest, if ever from my spirit stole 
One deeper prayer, 't was that no cloud might lower 
On my young fame ! — hear ! God of eternal power ! 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 33S 

Now for the fight — now for the cannon-peal — 

Forward — through blood, and toil, and cloud, and fire 1 
Glorious the shout, the shock, the crash of steel, 

The volley's roll, the rocket's blasting spire ; 

They shake — like broken waves their squares retire, — 
On, hussars ! — Now give them rein and heel ; 

Think of the orphaned child, the murdered sire ; — 

Earth cries for blood — in thunder on them wheel ! 

This hour to Europe's fate shall set the triumph-seal ! 

Korner. 



ccxxxiv. 
THE MAIN TRUCK, OR A LEAP FOR LIFE. 

f~XLT) Ironsides at anchor lay 
^^ In the harbor of Mahon ; 
A dead calm rested on the bay, — 

The waves to sleep had gone ; 
When little Hal, the Captain's son, 

A lad both brave and good, 
In sport, up shroud and rigging ran, 

And on the main truck stood ! 

A shudder shot through every vein, — 

All eyes were turned on high ! 
There stood the boy, with dizzy brain, 

Between the sea and sky ; 
No hold had he above, below ; 

Alone he stood in air : 
To that far height none dared to go ; — 

No aid could reach him there. 

We gazed, — but not a man could speak ! 

With horror all aghast, 
In groups, with pallid brow and cheek, 

We watched the quivering mast. 
The atmosphere grew thick and hot, 

And of a lurid hue ; — 
As riveted unto the spot, 

Stood officers and crew. 



334 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

The father came on deck : — he gasped, 

" Oh God ! Thy will be done ! " 
Then suddenly a rifle grasped, 

And aimed it at his son : 
" Jump, far out, boy, into the wave ! 

Jump, or I fire ! " he said ; 
" That only chance your life can save ! 

Jump, jump, boy ! " — He obeyed. 

He sunk, — he rose, — he lived, — he moved, — 

And for the ship struck out. 
On board, we hailed the lad beloved, 

With many a manly shout. 
His father drew, in silent joy, 

Those wet arms round his neck — 
Then folded to his heart* his boy, 

And fainted on the deck. q. p. Morris, 



ocxxxv. 
CATILINE ON HIS BANISHMENT FROM ROME. 

"O ANISHED from Rome ! What 's banished, but set free 

-"-^ From daily contact of the things I loathe ? 

" Tried and convicted traitor ! " — Who says this ? 

Who '11 prove it, at his peril, on my head ? 

Banished ? — I thank you for 't. Tt breaks my chain ! 

I held some slack allegiance till this hour ; 

But now my sword 's my own. Smile on, my lords ; 

I scorn to count what feelings, withered hopes, 

Strong provocations, bitter, burning wrongs, 

I have within my heart's hot cells shut up, 

To leave you in your lazy dignities. 

But here I stand and scoff you : — here I fling 

Hatred and full defiance in your face. 

Your consul 's merciful. For this all thanks. 

He dares not touch a hair of Catiline. 

" Traitor ! " I go — hut I return. This trial ! — 

Here I devote your senate ! I 've had wrongs, 

To stir a fever in the hlood of age, 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 335 

Or make the infant's sinews strong as steel. 

This day 's the birth of sorrows ! — This hour's work 

Will breed proscriptions. Look to your hearths, my lords ; 

For there henceforth shall sit, for household gods, 

Shapes hot from Tartarus ! — all shapes and crimes ; 

Wan Treachery, with his thirsty dagger drawn ; 

Suspicion, poisoning his brother's cup ; 

Naked Rebellion, with the torch and axe, 

Making his wild sport of your blazing thrones ; 

Till anarchy comes down on you like Night, 

And massacre seals Rome's eternal grave ! g. Croly. 



ccxxxvi. 
APOSTROPHE TO THE OCEAN. 

rriHERE is a pleasure in the pathless woods, 

There is a rapture on the lonely shore, 
There is society where none intrudes, 
By the deep sea, and music in its roar ; 
I love not Man the less, but Nature more, 
From these our interviews, in which I steal 
From all I may be or have been before, 
To mingle with the Universe and feel 
What I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal. 

Roll on, thou deep and dark blue ocean — roll ! 
Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain ; 
Man marks the earth with ruin — his control 
Stops with the shore ! — upon the watery plain 
The wrecks are all thy deed, nor doth remain 
A shadow of man's ravage, save his own, 
When, for a moment, like a drop of rain, 
He sinks into thy depths with bubbling groan, 
Without a grave, unknelled, uncoffined, and unknown. 

His steps are not upon thy paths, — thy fields 

Are not a spoil for him, — thou dost arise 

And shake him from thee ; the vile strength he wields 



336 THE UNION SPEAKER 

For earth's destruction, thou dost all despise, 
Spurning him from thy boso:n to the skies, 
And send'st him, shivering in thy playful spray 
And howling, to his gods, where haply lies 
His petty hope in some near port or bay, 
And dashest him again to earth : — there let him lay. 

The armaments which thunderstrike the walls 
Of rock-built cities, bidding nations quake, 
And monarchs tremble in their capitals, 
The oak leviathans, whose huge ribs make 
Their clay creator the vain title take 
Of lord of thee, and arbiter of war ; 
These are thy toys, and, as the snowy flake, 
They melt into thy yeast of waves, which mar 
Alike the Armada's pride, or spoils of Trafalgar. 

Thy shores are empires, changed in all save thee — 
Assyria, Greece, Rome, Carthage, what are they ? 
Thy waters wasted them while they were free, 
And many a tyrant since ; their shores obey 
The stranger, slave or savage ; their decay 
Has dried up realms to deserts : — not so thou, 
Unchangeable save to thy wild waves' play — 
Time writes no wrinkle on thy azure brow — 
Such as creation's dawn beheld, thou rollest now. 

Thou glorious mirror, where the Almighty's form 
Glasses itself in tempests : in all time, 
Calm or convulsed — in breeze, or gale or storm, 
Icing the pole, or in the torrid clime 
Dark-heaving; — boundless, endless, and sublime — 
The image of Eternity : — the throne 
Of the Invisible ; even from out thy slime 
The monsters of the deep are made ; each zone 
Obeys thee ; thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, alone. 

Lord Byron. 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 337 

ccxxxvn. 
BATTLE OF WATERLOO. 

T^HERE was a sound of revelry by night ; 
■*• And Belgium's capital had gathered then 
Her Beauty and her Chivalry ; and bright 

The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men ; 

A thousand hearts beat happily ; and when 
Music arose with its voluptuous swell, 

Soft eyes looked love to eyes which spake again, 
And all went merry as a marriage bell ; — 
But hush ! hark ! a deep sound strikes like a rising knell ! 

Did ye not hear it ? — No : 't was but the wind, 
Or the car rattling o'er the stony street : 

On with the dance ! let joy be unconfined ; 

No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure meet 
To chase the glowing Hours with flying feet — 

But, hark ! — that heavy sound breaks in once more, 
As if the clouds its echo would repeat ; 

And nearer, clearer, deadlier than before ! 
Arm ! Arm ! it is — it is — the cannon's opening roar ! 



Ah ! then and there was hurrying to and fro, 

And gathering tears, and tremblings of distress, 
And cheeks all pale, which but an hour ago 

Blushed at the praise of their own loveliness ; 

And there were sudden partings, such as press 
The life from out young hearts, and choking sighs 

Which ne'er might be repeated. Who could guess 
If ever more should meet those mutual eyes, 
Since upon night so sweet such awful morn could rise ? 

And there was mounting in hot haste : the steed, 
The mustering squadron, and the clattering car, 

Went pouring forward with impetuous speed, 
And swiftly forming in the ranks of war ; 
22 






338 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

And the deep thunder, peal on peal, afar, — 
And near, the beat of the alarming drum, 

Roused up the soldier ere the morning star ; — 
"While thronged the citizens with terror dumb, 
Or whispering, with white lips — " The foe ! they come ! 
they come ! " 

And wild and high the " Cameron's gathering " rose ! 

The war-note of Lochiel, which Albyn's hills 
Have heard — and heard, too, have her Saxon foes : — 

How in the noon of night that pibroch thrills, 

Savage and shrill ! But with the breath which fills 
Their mountain-pipe, so fill the mountaineers 

With the fierce native daring, which instils 
The stirring memory of a thousand years : 
And Evan's, Donald's fame rings in each clansman's ears ! 

And Ardennes waves above them her green leaves, 

Dewy with Nature's tear-drops, as they pass, 
Grieving, — if aught inanimate e'er grieves, — 

Over the unreturning brave, — alas ! 

Ere evening to be trodden like the grass 
Which now beneath them, but above shall grow, 

In its next verdure ; when this fiery mass 
Of living valor, rolling on the foe, 
And burning with high hope, shall moulder cold and low ! 

Last noon beheld them full of lusty life ; 

Last eve in Beauty's circle proudly gay ; 
The midnight brought the signal-sound of strife ; 

The morn, the marshalling in arms ; the day, 

Battle's magnificently-stern array ! 
The thunder-clouds close o'er it, which when rent, 

The earth is covered thick with other clay, 
Which her own clay shall cover, — heaped and pent, 
Rider and horse, — friend, foe, — in one red burial blent ! 

Lord Byron. 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 339 

CCXXXVIII. 
THE DESTRUCTION OF SENNACHERIB. 

HPHE Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, 

And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold ; 
And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea, 
When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee. 

Like the leaves of the forest when Summer is green, 
That host with their banners at sunset were seen : 
Like the leaves of the forest when Autumn hath blown, 
That host on the morrow lay withered and strown. 

For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast, 
And breathed in the face of the foe as he pass'd ; 
And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill, 
And their hearts but once heaved, and forever grew still. 

And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide, 
But through it there rolled not the breath of his pride ; 
And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf, 
And cold as the spray of the rock -beating surf. 

And there lay the rider distorted and pale, 
With the dew on his brow, and the rust on his mail ; 
And the tents were all silent, the banners alone, 
The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown. 

And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail, 
And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal ; 
And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword, 
Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord ! 

Lord Byron. 



M 



CCXXXIX. 

SPEECH OF MOLOCH. 

Y sentence is for open war. Of wiles, 
More unexpert, I boast not ; them let those 



340 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

Contrive who need, or when they need, not now ; 
For, while they sit contriving, shall the rest, 
Millions that stand in arms, and longing wait 
The signal to ascend, sit lingering here, 
Heaven's fugitives, and for their dwelling-place 
Accept this dark, opprobrious den of shame, 
The prison of his tyranny, who reigns 
By our delay ? No ; let us rather choose, 
Armed with hell-flames and fury, all at once, 
O'er heaven's high towers to force resistless way, 
Turning our tortures into horrid arms 
Against the torturer ; when, to meet the noise 
Of his almighty engine, he shall hear 
Infernal thunder, and for lightning, see 
Black fire and horror shot with equal rage 
Among his angels, — and his throne itself, 
Mixed with Tartarean sulphur and strange fire, 
His own invented torments. 

But, perhaps, 
The way seems difficult and steep to scale, 
With upright wing, against a higher foe. 
Let such bethink them, if the sleepy drench 
Of that forgetful lake benumb not still, 
That in our proper motion we ascend 
Up to our native seat ; descent aryl fall 
To us adverse. "Who but felt of late, 
When the fierce foe hung on our broken rear 
Insulting, and pursued us through the deep, 
With what compulsion and laborious flight, 
We sunk thus low ? The ascent is easy then ; 
The event is feared. 

Should we again provoke 
Our stronger, some worse way his wrath may find 
To our destruction ; if there be in hell, 
Fear to be worse destroyed. What can be worse 
Than to dwell here, driven out from bliss, condemned 
In this abhorred deep to utter woe ; 
Where pam of unextinguishable fire 
Must exercise us without hope of end, 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 341 

The vassals of his anger, when the scourge 

Inexorable, and the torturing hour 

Calls us to penance ? More destroyed than thus 

"We should be quite abolished and expire. 

What fear we then ? what doubt we to incense 

His utmost ire ? which to the height enraged, 

Will either quite consume us, and reduce 

To nothing this essential (happier far, 

Than miserable, to have eternal being,) 

Or, if our substance be indeed divine, 

And cannot cease to be, we are at worst 

On this side nothing ; and by proof we feel 

Our power sufficient to disturb his heaven, 

And with perpetual inroads to alarm, 

Though inaccessible, his fatal throne ; 

Which, if not victory, — is yet revenge. MiUon. 



CCXL 
ANTONTS ADDRESS TO TEE ROMANS. 

"ORIENDS, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears 

-*- I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him. 

The evil that men do lives after them ; 

The good is oft interred with their bones : 

So let it be with Caesar. The noble Brutus 

Hath told you, Caesar was ambitious : 

If it were so, it was a grievous fault, 

And grievously hath Caesar answered it. 

Here, under leave of Brutus, and the rest, 

(For Brutus is an honorable man ; 

So are they all, all honorable men), 

Come I to speak in Caesar's funeral. — 

He was my friend, faithful and just to me : 
But Brutus says he was ambitious, 
And Brutus is an honorable man. 
He hath brought many captives home to Rome, 
Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill : 



842 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

Did this in Caesar seem ambitious ? 

When that the poor have cried, Caesar hath wept: 

Ambition should be made of sterner stuff: 

Yet Brutus says he was ambitious, 

And Brutus is an honorable man. 

You all did see, that, on the Lupercal, 

I thrice presented him a kingly crown, 

Which he did thrice refuse. Was this ambition ? 

Yet Brutus says he was ambitious, 

And, sure, he is an honorable man. 

I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke, 

But here I am to speak what I do know. 

You all did love him once, not without cause : 

What cause witholds you then to mourn for him ? 

judgment, thou art fled to brutish beasts, 

And men have lost their reason ! — Bear with me : 

My heart is in the coffin there with Caesar, 

And I must pause till it come back to me. 

But yesterday the word of Caesar might 
Have stood against the world ; now lies he there, 
And none so poor to do him reverence. 

Masters ! if I were disposed to stir 
Your hearts and minds to mutiny and rage, 

1 should do Brutus wrong, and Cassius wrong, 
Who, you all know, are honorable men. 

I will not do them wrong ; I rather choose 
To wrong the dead, to wrong myself and you, 
Than I will wrong such honorable men : 
But here 's a parchment, with the seal of Caesar, — 
I found it in his closet ; 't is his will. 
Let but the commons hear this testament 
(Which, pardon me, I do not mean to read), 
And they would go and kiss dead Caesar's wounds, 
And dip their napkins in his sacred blood ; 
Yea, beg a hair of him for memory, 
And, dying, mention it within their wills, 
Bequeathing it, as a rich legacy, 
Unto their issue. — 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 343 

If you have, tears, prepare to shed them now. 
You all do know this mantle ; I remember 
The first time ever Caesar ever put it on ; 
'T was on a summer's evening in his tent ; 
That day he overcame the Nervii. — 
Look ! In this place ran Cassius's dagger through : 
See what a rent the envious Caeca made : 
Through this, the well-beloved Brutus stabbed ; 
And as he plucked his cursed steel away, 
Mark, how the blood of Caesar followed it ! — 
This was the most unkindest cut of all ! 
For when the noble Ccesar saw him stab, 
Ingratitude, more strong than traitors' arms, 
Quite vanquished him ! Then burst his mighty heart ; 
And, in his mantle muffling up his face, 
Even at the base of Pompey's statue, 
Which all the while ran blood, great Caesar fell. 
0, what a fall was there, my countrymen ! 
Then I, and you, and all of us, fell down, 
Whilst bloody treason flourished over us. 
O, now you weep ; and I perceive you feel 
The dint of pity : — these are gracious drops. 
Kind souls ! what, weep you when you but behold 
Our Caesar's vesture wounded ? Look ye here ! 
Here is himself — marred, as you see, by traitors. 

Good friends, sweet friends, let me not stir you up 
To such a sudden flood of mutiny ! 
They that have done this deed are honorable ! 
What private griefs they have, alas, I know not, 
That made them do it ! They are wise and honorable, 
And will, no doubt, with reasons answer you. 
I come not, friends, to steal away your hearts : 
I am no orator, as Brutus is ; 
But as you all know me, a plain, blunt man, 
That love my friend ; and that they know full well 
That gave me public leave to speak of him. 
For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth, 
Action, nor utterance, nor the power of speech, 



344 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

To stir men's blood : — I only speak right on ; 

I tell you that which you yourselves do know ; 

Show you sweet Caesar's wounds, poor, poor, dumb mouths, 

And bid them speak for me. But, were I Brutus, 

And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony, 

Would ruffle up your spirits, and put a tongue 

In every wound of Caesar, that should move 

The stones of Rome to rise and mutiny ! Shatepeare. 



CCXLI. 
HAMLETS SOLILOQUY. 

rPO be, — or not to be ; — that is the question : — 

Whether 't is nobler in the mind, to suffer 
The slings and arrows of outrageous Fortune ; 
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, 
And, by opposing, end them ? — To die, — to sleep, — 
No more ; and, by a sleep, to say we end 
The heartache, and the thousand natural shocks 
That flesh is heir to, — 'tis a consummation 
Devoutly to be wished. To die, — to sleep ; — 
To sleep ! perchance to dream ; — ay, there 's the rub 
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come, 
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, 
Must give us pause. There 's the respect 
That makes calamity of so long life ; 
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, 
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, 
The pangs of despised love, the law's delay, 
The insolence of office, and the spurns 
That patient merit of the unworthy takes, 
When he himself might his quietus make 
With a bare bodkin ? Who would fardels bear, 
To grunt and sweat under a weary life ; 
But that the dread of something after death, — 
The undiscovered country, from whose bourn 
No traveller returns, — puzzles the will, 
And makes us rather bear those ills we have, 
Than fly to others that we know not of ? 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 345 

Thus conscience does make cowards of us all ; 

And thus the native hue of resolution 

Is sicklied o'er with pale cast of thought ; 

And enterprises of great pith and moment, 

With this regard, their currents turn awry, 

And lose the name of action. Shahspeare. 



CCXLII. 
SOLILOQUY OF HAMLETS UNCLE. 

i^\H ! my offence is rank ; it smells to heaven ; 

^-^ It hath the primal, eldest curse upon 't, 

A brother's murder ! Pray I cannot, 

Though inclination be as sharp as 't will : 

My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent ; 

And like a man to double business bound, 

I stand in pause where I shall first begin, 

And both neglect. What if this cursed hand 

Were thicker than itself with brother's blood ; 

Is there not rain enough in the sweet heavens 

To wash it white as snow ? Whereto serves mercy, 

But to confront the visage of offence ? 

And what 's in prayer, but this twofold force, — 

To be forestalled, ere we come to fall, 

Or pardoned being down ? Then I '11 look up ; 

My fault is past. — But, 0, what form of prayer 

Can serve my turn ? " Forgive me my foul murder ! " 

That cannot be ; since I am still possessed 

Of those effects for which I did the murder, — 

My crown, mine own ambition, and my queen. 

May one be pardoned, and retain the offence ? 

In the corrupted currents of this world, 

Offence's gilded hand may shove by justice ; 

And oft 't is seen, the wicked prize itself 

Buys out the law : but 't is not so above ; 

TJiere is no shuffling ; there the action lies 

In his true nature ; and we ourselves compell'd, 

Even to the teeth and forehead of our faults, 



346 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

To give in evidence. What then ? What rests ? 

Try what repentance can : what can it not ? 

Yet what can it, when one can not repent ? 

wretched state ! bosom, black as death ! 

O limed soul, that, struggling to be free, 

Art more engag'd ! Help, angels ! make assay ! 

Bow, stubborn knees ; and, heart, with strings of steel, 

Be soft as sinews of the new-born babe ! 

All may be well. Shakspeare. 



ccxlih. 
PERSEVERANCE KEEPS HONOR BRIGHT. 

T I iIME hath, my lord, a wallet at his back, 
-*- Wherein he puts arms for oblivion, 
A great-sized monster of ingratitudes. 
Those scraps are good deeds past, which are devoured 
As fast as they are made, forgot as soon 
As done. Perseverance, dear my lord, 
Keeps honor bright. To have done, is to hang 
Quite out of fashion, like a rusty mail 
In monumental mockery. Take the instant way ; 
For Honor travels in a strait so narrow, 
Where one but goes abreast : keep then the path ; 
For Emulation hath a thousand sons, 
That one by one pursue : if you give way, 
Or hedge aside from the direct forthright, 
Like to an entered tide, they all rush by, 
And leave you hindmost ; — 
Or, like a gallant horse fallen in first rank, 
Lie there for pavement to the abject rear, 
O'errun and trampled on. Then what they do in present, 
Though less than yours in past, must o'ertop yours : 
For Time is like a fashionable host, 
That slightly shakes his parting guest by the hand ; 
And with his arms outstretched, as he would fly, 
Grasps-in the comer : Welcome ever smiles, 
And Farewell goes out sighing. O, let not Virtue seek 
Remuneration for the thing it was ; 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 347 

For beauty, wit, 

High birth, vigor of bone, desert in service, 

Love, friendship, charity, are subjects all 

To envious and calumniating Time. 

One touch of Nature makes the whole world kin, — 

That all, with one consent, praise new-born gauds, 

Though they are made and moulded of things past ; 

And give to dust, that is a little gilt, 

More land than gilt o'erdusted. 

The present eye praises the present object : 

Then marvel not, thou great and complete man, 

That all the Greeks begin to worship Ajax ; 

Since things in motion sooner catch the eye 

Than what not stirs : The cry went once on thee, 

And still it might, and yet it may again, 

If thou wouldst not entomb thyself alive, 

And case thy reputation in thy tent ; 

Whose glorious deeds, did but in these fields of late, 

Made emulous missions 'mongst the gods themselves, 

And drave great Mars to faction. Shakspeare. 



CCXLIV. 

MACBETWS SOLILOQUY. 

TS this a dagger, which I see before me, 

-*- The handle toward my hand ? Come, let me clutch thee 

I have thee not ; and yet I see thee still. 

Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible 

To feeling as to sight, or art thou but 

A dagger of the mind ; — a false creation, 

Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain ? 

I see thee yet, in form as palpable 

As this which now I draw. 

Thou marshal'st me the way that I was going ; 

And such an instrument I was to use. 

Mine eyes are made the fools o' the other senses, 

Or else worth all the rest : I see thee still ; 

And on thy blade and dudgeon gouts of blood, 



348 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

Which was not so before. — There 's no such thing : 

It is the bloody business, which informs' 

Thus to mine eyes. — Now, o'er the one half world 

Nature seems dead, and wicked dreams abuse 

The curtained sleep ; now Witchcraft celebrates 

Pale Hecate's offerings ; and withered Murder, 

Alarum'd by his sentinel, the wolf, 

Whose howl 's his watch, thus with his stealthy pace, 

With Tarquin's ravishing strides, towards his design 

Moves like a ghost. Thou sure and firm-set earth, 

Hear not my steps, which way they walk, for fear 

Thy very stones prate of my where-about, 

And take the present horror from the timg, 

Which now suits with it. Whiles I threat, he lives ; 

Words to the heat of deeds too cold breath gives. 

I go, and it is done ; the bell invites me. [A bell rings. 

Hear it not, Duncan ; for it is a knell, 

That summons thee to heaven or to hell. 



Shakspeare. 



CCXLV. 
ROMEO IN THE GARDEN. 



"DUX, soft ! what light through yonder window breaks? 

-^ It is the east, and Juliet is the sun ! — 

Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, 

Who is already sick and pale with grief, 

That thou her maid, art far more fair than she. 

Be not her maid, since she is envious : 

Her vestal livery is but sick and green, 

And none but fools do wear it ; cast it off. 

It is my lady : O, it is my love ! 

0, that she knew she were ! — 

She speaks, yet she says nothing : what of that ? 

Her eye discourses ; I will answer it. 

I am too bold ; 't is not to me she speaks : 

Two of the faire>t stars in all the heaven, 

Having some business, do entreat her eyes 

To twinkle in their spheres till they return. 






STANDARD SELECTIONS. 349 

What if her eyes were there, they in her head ? 
The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars, 
As daylight doth a lamp ; her eye in heaven 
Would through the airy region stream so bright, 
That birds would sing, and think it were not night. 
See how she leans her cheek upon her hand ! 
O, that I were a glove upon that hand, 
That I might touch that cheek ! 

She speaks : — 
O, speak again, bright angel ! for thou art 
As glorious to this night, being o'er my head, 
As is a winged messenger of heaven 
Unto the white-upturned wondering eyes 
Of mortals, that fall back to gaze on him, 
When he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds, 
And sails upon the bosom of the air. Shakspeare. 



CCXLVI. 
POL ONI US TO LAERTES. 

"1%/TY blessing with you ! 

And these few precepts in thy memory, 
Look thou character. Give thy thoughts no tongue, 
Nor any unproportioned thought his act. 
Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar : 
The friends thou hast, and their adoption tried, 
Grapple them to thy soul with hoops of steel ; 
But do not dull thy palm with entertainment 
Of each new-hatched, unfledged comrade : beware 
Of entrance to a quarrel ; but, being in, 
Bear it, that the opposed may beware of thee. 
Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice ; 
Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment. 
Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy, 
But not expressed in fancy ; rich, not gaudy ; 
For the apparel oft proclaims the man ; 

And they in France, of the best rank and station, 



350 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

Are most select and generous chief in that. 
Neither a borrower nor a lender be ; 
For loan oft loses both itself and friend ; 
And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry. 
This above all, — to thine own self be true, 
And it must follow, as the night the day, 
Thou canst not then be false to any man ! 



Skahspeare. 



CCXLVII. 

WOLSEY, ON BEING CAST OFF BY THE KING. 

"VTAY, then, farewell ! 

I have touched the highest point of all my greatness ; 
And, from that full meridian of my glory, 
I haste now to my setting : I shall fall 
Like a bright exhalation in the evening, 
And no man see me more. 
Farewell, a long farewell, to all my greatness ! 
This is the state of man : to-day he puts forth 
The tender leaves of hope ; to-morrow, blossoms, 
And bears his blushing honors thick upon him : 
The third day comes a frost, a killing frost ; 
And, when he thinks, — good easy man, — full surely 
His greatness is a ripening, — nips his root, 
And then he falls, as I do. I have ventured, 
Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders, 
These many summers in a sea of glory ; 
But far beyond my depth : my high-blown pride 
At length broke under me ; and now has left me, 
Weary and old with service, to the mercy 
Of a rude stream, that must forever hide me. 

Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate ye ! 
I feel my heart new opened. O, how wretched 
Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favors ! 
There is, betwixt that smile he would aspire to, 
That sweet aspect of princes, and his ruin, 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 351 

More pangs and fears than wars or women have. 

And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, 

Never to hope again ! Shdkspeare. 



ccxLvm. 
WOLSEY TO CROMWELL. 

/CROMWELL, I did not think to shed a tear 

^-^ In all my miseries ; but thou hast forced me 

Out of thy honest truth, to play the woman. 

Let's dry our eyes: and thus far hear me, Cromwell; 

And, when I am forgotten, as I shall be, 

And sleep in dull cold marble, Avhere no mention 

Of me more must be heard of, — say, I taught thee, — 

Say, Wolsey, — that once trod the ways of glory, 

And sounded all the depths and shoals of honor, — 

Found thee away, out of his wreck, to rise in ; 

A sure and safe one, though thy master missed it. — 

Mark but my fall, and that which ruined me ! 

Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition ! 

By that sin fell the angels : how can man, then, 

The image of his Maker, hope to win by 't ? 

Love thyself last ; cherish those hearts that hate thee : 

Corruption wins not more than honesty ; 

Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, 

To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not. 

Let all the ends thou aim'st at, be thy country's, 

Thy God's, and truth's ; then, if thou fallest, O Cromwell, 

Thou fallest a blessed martyr ! Serve the king ; 

And — Prithee, lead me in : 

There, take an inventory of all I have, 

To the last penny ; 't is the king's ; my robe, 

And my integrity to Heaven, is all 

I dare now call mine own. O Cromwell, Cromwell ! 

Had I but served my God with half the zeal 

I served my king, He would not, in mine age, 

Have left me naked to mine enemies ! Shdkspeare. 



352 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

CCXLIX. 
GRIFFITH'S DESCRIPTION OF CARDINAL WOLSEY. 

"A/TEN'S evil manners live in brass ; their virtues 

We write in water. May it please your highness 
To hear me speak his good now ? This Cardinal, 
Though from an humble stock, undoubtedly 
Was fashioned to much honor. From his cradle, 
He was a scholar, and a ripe and good one : 
Exceeding wise, fair spoken, and persuading ; 
Lofty and sour to them that lov'd him not, 
But to those men that sought him, sweet as summer ; 
And though he were unsatisfied in getting, 
(Which was a sin), yet in bestowing, madam, 
He was most princely ; ever witness for him 
Those twins of learning that he raised in you, 
Ipswich and Oxford ! one of which fell with him, 
Unwilling to outlive the good he did it ; 
The other, though unfinish'd, yet so famous, 
So excellent in art, and still so rising, 
That Christendom shall ever speak his virtue. 
His overthrow heaped happiness upon him ; 
For then, and not till then, he felt himself, 
And found the blessedness of being little : 
And to add greater honors to his age 
Than man could give him, he died fearing God. 

ShaJcspeare. 



BOOK SECOND. 



RECENT SELECTIONS 

FOR 

RECITATION AND DECLAMATION 
IN PROSE AND POETRY. 



BOOK SECOND. 



RECENT SELECTIONS. 
PKOSE. 



CCL. 
THE ORATORS OF REVOLUTIONS. 

A ND then and thus comes the orator of that time, kindling 
"*■■*■ with their fire ; sympathizing with that great beating heart; 
penetrated, not subdued ; lifted up rather by a sublime and rare 
moment of history made real to his consciousness ; charged with 
the very mission of life, yet unassured whether they will hear or 
will forbear ; transcendent good within their grasp, yet a possi- 
bility that the fatal and critical opportunity of salvation will be 
wasted ; the last evil of nations and of men overhanging, yet the 
siren song of peace — peace when there is no peace — chanted 
madly by some voice of sloth or fear, — there and thus the ora- 
tors of revolutions come to work their work ! And what then is 
demanded, and how it is to be done, you all see ; and that in 
some of the characteristics of their eloquence they must all be 
alike. Actions, not law or policy, whose growth and fruits are 
to be slowly evolved by time and calm ; actions daring, doubtful 
but instant ; the new things of a new world, — these are what 
the speaker counsels ; large, elementary, gorgeous ideas of right, 
of equality, of independence, of liberty, of progress through con- 
vulsion, — these are the principles from which he reasons, when 
he reasons, — these are the pinions of the thought on which he 
soars and stays ; and then the primeval and indestructible senti- 
ments of the breast of man, — his sense of right, his estimation 

of himself, his sense of honor, his love of fame, his triumph and 



356 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

his joy in the dear name of country, the trophies that tell of the 
past, the hopes that gild and herald her dawn, — these are the 
springs of action to which he appeals, — these are the chords his 
fingers sweep, and from which he draws out the troubled music, 
" solemn as death, serene as the undying confidence of patriot- 
ism," to which he would have the battalions of the people 
march ! Directness, plainness, a narrow range of topics, few de- 
tails, few but grand ideas, a headlong tide of sentiment and feel- 
ing ; vehement, indignant, and reproachful reasonings, — winged 
general maxims of wisdom and life ; an example from Plutarch ; 
a pregnant sentence of Tacitus ; thoughts going forth as minis- 
ters of nature in robes of light, and with arms in their hands ; 
thoughts that breathe and words that burn, — these vaguely, ap- 
proximately, express the general type of all this speech. 

B. Choate. 
■ » 

CCLI. 

TEE ELOQUENCE OF REVOLUTIONS. 

ri^HE capital peculiarity of the eloquence of all times of revo- 
lution, is that the actions it persuades to are the highest and 
most heroic which men can do, and the passions it would inspire, 
in order to persuade to them, are the most lofty which man can 
feel. " High actions and high passions " — such are Milton's 
words, — high actions through and by high passions ; these are 
the end and these the means of the orator of the revolution. 

Hence are his topics large, simple, intelligible, affecting. 
Hence are his views broad, impressive, popular ; no trivial de- 
tails, no wire-woven developments, no subtle distinctions and 
drawing of fine lines about the boundaries of ideas, no specula- 
tion, no ingenuity ; all is elemental, comprehensive, intense, prac- 
tical, unqualified, undoubting. It is not of the small things of 
minor and instrumental politics he comes to speak, or men come 
to hear. It is not to speak or to hear about permitting an Athe- 
nian citizen to change his tribe ; about permitting the Roman 
knights to have jurisdiction of trials equally with the Senate ; 
it is not about allowing a £10 householder to vote for a member 
of Parliament ; about duties on indigo, or onion-seed, or even tea. 
" That strain you hear is of an higher mood." 



RECENT SELECTIONS. 357 

It is the rallying-cry of patriotism, of liberty, in the sublimest 
crisis of the State, — of man. It is a deliberation of empire, of 
glory, of existence, on which they come together. To be or not 
to be, — that is the question. Shall the children of the men of 
Marathon become slaves of Philip ? Shall the majesty of the Sen- 
ate and people of Rome stoop to wear the chains forging by the 
military executors of the will of Julius Caesar? Shall the assem- 
bled representatives of France, just waking from her sleep of ages 
to claim the rights of man, — shall they disperse, their work 
undone, their work just commencing ; and shall they disperse at 
the order of the king ? or shall the messenger be bid to go, in 
the thunder-tones of Mirabeau, — and tell his master that "we 
sit here to do the will of our constituents, and that we will not 
be moved from these seats but by the point of the bayonet ? " 
Shall Ireland bound upward from her long prostration, and cast 
from her the last links of the British chain, and shall she ad- 
vance " from injuries to arms, from arms to liberty," from liberty 
to glory ? Shall the thirteen Colonies become, and be, free and 
independent States, and come unabashed, unterrified, an equal, 
into the majestic assembly of the nations ? 

These are the thoughts with which all bosoms are distended 
and oppressed. Filled with these, and with these flashing in 
every eye, swelling every heart, pervading electric all ages, all 
orders, like a visitation, "an unquenchable public fire," men 
come together, — the thousands of Athens around the Bema, or 
in the Temple of Dionysus, — the people of Rome in the forum, 
the Senate in that council-chamber of the world, — the masses of 
France, as the spring-tide, into her gardens of the Tuileries, her 
club-rooms, her hall of the convention, — the representatives, the 
genius, the grace, the beauty of Ireland into the Tuscan Gallery 
of her House of Commons, — the delegates of the Colonies into 
the Hall of Independence at Philadelphia, — thus men come in 
an hour of revolution, to hang upon the lips from which they 
hope, they need, they demand, to hear the things which belong 
to their national salvation, hungering' for the bread of life. 

It. Choate. 



358 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

CCLII. 
AMERICAN NATIONALITY. 

"jT> Y the side of all antagonisms, higher than they, stronger 
-*-"* than they, there rises colossal the fine sweet spirit of na- 
tionality, the nationality of America ! See there the pillar of 
fire which God has kindled and lifted and moved for our hosts 
and our ages. Gaze on that, worship that, worship the high- 
est in that. Between that light and our eyes a cloud for a 
time may seem to gather ; chariots, armed men on foot, the 
troops of kings may march on us, and our fears may make us 
for a moment turn from it ; a sea may spread before us, and 
waves seem to hedge us up ; dark idolatries may alienate some 
hearts for a season from that worship; revolt, rebellion, may 
break out in the camp, and the waters of our springs may run 
bitter to the taste and mock it ; between us and that Canaan a 
great river may seem to be rolling ; but beneath that high guid- 
ance our way is onward, ever onward ; those waters shall part, 
and stand on either hand in heaps ; that idolatry shall repent ; 
that rebellion shall be crushed ; that stream shall be sweetened ; 
that overflowing river shall be passed on foot dryshod, in har- 
vest time ; and from that promised land of flocks, fields, tents, 
mountains, coasts, and ships, from north and south, and east and 
west, there shall swell one cry yet, of victory, peace, and thanks- 
giving! R. Choaie. 
» 

CCLI1I. 

THE SAME CONTINUED. 

rilHINK of this nationality first as a state of consciousness, as 
a spring of feeling, as a motive to exertion, as blessing your 
country, and as reacting on you. Think of it as it fills your 
mind and quickens your heart, and as it fills the mind and quick- 
ens the heart of millions around you. Instantly, under such an 
influence, you ascend above the smoke and stir of this small 
local strife ; you tread upon the high places of the earth and of 
history ; you think and feel as an American for America ; her 
power, her eminence, her consideration, her honor, are yours ; 
your competitors, like hers, are kings ; your home, like hers, is 



RECENT SELECTIONS. 359 

the world ; your path, like hers, is on the highway of empires ; 
our charge, her charge, is of generations and ages ; your rec- 
ord, her record, is of treaties, battles, voyages, beneath all the 
constellations ; her image, one, immortal, golden, rises on your 
eye as our western star at evening rises on the traveller from 
his home ; no lowering cloud, no angry river, no lingering spring, 
no broken crevasse, no inundated city or plantation, no tracts of 
sand, arid and burning, on that surface, but all blended and soft- 
ened into one beam of kindred rays, the image, harbinger, and 
promiser of love, hope, and a brighter day ! 

But if you would contemplate nationality as an active virtue, 
look around you. Is not our own history one witness and one 
record of what it can do ? This day and all which it stands for, 
— did it not give us these ? This glory of the fields of that 
war, this eloquence of that revolution, this one wide sheet of 
flame which wrapped tyrant and tyranny and swept all that 
escaped from it away, forever and forever ; the courage to fight, 
to retreat, to rally, to advance, to guard the young flag by the 
young arm and the young heart's blood, to hold up and hold on 
till the magnificent consummation crowned the work, — were not 
all these imparted or inspired by this imperial sentiment ? 

Has it not here begun the master-work of man, the creation 
of a national life ? Did it not call out that prodigious develop- 
ment of wisdom, the wisdom of constructiveness which illus- 
trated the years after the war, and the framing and adopting of 
the Constitution ? Has it not, in general, contributed to the 
administering of that government wisely and well since ? 

R. Choate. 



ccliv. 
THE SAME CONCLUDED. 

f OOK at it ! It has kindled us to no aims of conquest. It 
"^ has involved us in no entangling alliances. It has kept our 
neutrality dignified and just. The victories of peace have been 
our prized victories. But the larger and truer grandeur of the 
nations, for which they are created, and for which they must one 
day, before some tribunal, give an account, what a measure of 
these it has enabled us already to fulfil ! It has lifted us to the 



360 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

throne, and has set on our brow the name of the Great Repub- 
lic. It has taught us to demand nothing wrong, and to submit to 
nothing wrong ; it has made our diplomacy sagacious, wary, ac- 
complished ; it has opened the iron gate of the mountain, and 
planted our ensign on the great, tranquil sea. 

It has made the desert to bud and blossom as the rose ; it has 
quickened to life the giant brood of useful arts ; it has whitened 
lake and ocean with the sails of a daring, new, and lawful trade ; 
it has extended to exiles, flying as clouds, the asylum of our bet- 
ter liberty. 

It has kept us at rest within all our borders ; it has repressed 
without blood the intemperance of local insubordination ; it has 
scattered the seeds of liberty, under law and under order, broad- 
cast ; it has seen and helped American feeling to swell into a 
fuller flood ; from many a field and many a deck, though it seeks 
not war, makes not war, and fears not war, it has borne the ra- 
diant flag, all unstained ; it has opened our age of lettered glory ; 
it has opened and honored the age of the industry of the people ! 

E. Choaie. 



CCLV. 
TEE NATIONAL ENSIGN. 

O IR, I must detain you no longer. I have said enough, and 
^ more than enough, to manifest the spirit in which this flag 
is now committed to your charge. It is the national ensign, pure 
and simple ; dearer to all our hearts at this moment, as we lift it 
to the gale, and see no other sign of hope upon the storm-cloud 
which rolls and rattles above it, save that which is reflected from 
its own radiant hues ; dearer, a thousand-fold dearer to us all, 
than ever it was before, while gilded by the sunshine of pros- 
perity, and playing with the zephyrs of peace. It will speak for 
itself far more eloquently than I can speak for it. 

Behold it! Listen to it! Every star has a tongue; every 
stripe is articulate. There is no language or speech where their 
voices are not heard. There 's magic in the web of it. It has 
an answer for every question of duty. It has a solution for 
every doubt and perplexity. It has a word of good cheer for 
every hour of gloom or of despondency. 



RECENT SELECTIONS. 361 

Behold it ! Listen to it ! It speaks of earlier and of later 
struggles. It speaks of victories, and sometimes of reverses, on 
the sea and on the land. It speaks of patriots and heroes among 
the living and the dead : and of him, the first and greatest of 
them all, around whose consecrated ashes this unnatural and ab- 
horrent strife has so long been raging — " the abomination of 
desolation standing where it ought not." But before all and 
above all other associations and memories — whether of glorious 
men, or glorious deeds, or glorious places — its voice is ever of 
Union and Liberty, of the Constitution and the Laws. 

Behold it ! Listen to it ! Let it tell the story of its birth to 
these gallant volunteers, as they march beneath its folds by daj^ 
or repose beneath its sentinel stars by night. Let it recall to 
them the strange, eventful history of its rise and progress ; let it 
rehearse to them the wondrous tale Of its trials and its triumphs, 
in peace as w 7 ell as in war ; and, whatever else may happen to it 
or to them, it will never be surrendered to rebels ; never be ig- 
nominiously struck to treason ; nor be prostituted to any unwor- 
thy or unchristian purpose of revenge, depredation, or rapine. 

And may a merciful God cover the head of each one of its 
brave defenders in the hour of battle. R. c. WintJirop. 



CCLVL 
THE CAUSE. 



II I TNION for the sake of the Union"; "our country, our 
whole country, and nothing but our country " ; — these 
are the mottoes, old, stale, hackneyed, and threadbare as they 
may have seemed when employed as the watchwords of an elec- 
tioneering campaign, but clothed with a new power, a new signifi- 
cance, a new gloss, and a new glory, when uttered as the battle- 
cries of a nation struggling for existence ; these are the mottoes 
which can give a just and adequate expression to the Cause in 
which you have enlisted. Sir, I thank Heaven that the trumpet 
has given no uncertain sound, while you have been preparing 
yourselves for the battle. 

This is the Cause which has been solemnly proclaimed by both 
branches of Congress, in resolutions passed at the instance of 



362 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

those true-hearted sons of Tennessee and Kentucky — Johnson 
and Crittenden — and which, I rejoice to remember at this hour, 
received your own official sanction as a Senator of the United 
States. 

This is the Cause which has been recognized and avowed by 
the President of the United States, with a frankness and fear- 
lessness which have Avon the respect and admiration of all. 

This is the Cause which has been so fervently commended to 
us from the dying lips of a Douglas, and by the matchless living 
voices of a Holt and an Everett. 

^ This is the Cause in which the heroic Anderson, lifting his 
banner upon the wings of prayer, — and looking to the guidance 
and guardianship of the God in whom he trusted, went through 
that fiery furnace unharmed, and came forth, not indeed without 
the smell of fire and smoke upon his garments, but with an un- 
dimmed and undying lustre of piety and patriotism on his brow. 

This is the Cause in which the lamented Lyon bequeathed all 
that he had of earthly treasure to his country, and then laid 
down a life in her defence, whose value no millions could 
measure. 

This is the Cause in which the veteran chief of our armies, 
crowmed w T ith the laurels which Washington alone had worn be- 
fore him, and renouncing all inferior allegiance at the loss of for- 
tune and of friends, has tasked, and is still tasking to the utmost, 
the energies of a soul whose patriotism no age could chill. 

This is the Cause to which the young and noble McClellan, 
under whose lead it is your privilege to serve, has brought that 
matchless combination of sagacity and science, of endurance, 
modesty, caution, and courage, which have made him the hope 
of the hour, the bright particular star of our immediate destiny. 

And this, finally, is the Cause which has obliterated, as no 
other cause could have done, all divisions and distinctions of 
party, nationality, and creed ; which has appealed alike to Re- 
publican, Democrat, and Union Whig, to native citizen and to 
adopted citizen ; and in which not the sons of Massachusetts or 
of New England or of the North alone, not the dwellers on the 
Hudson, the Delaware, and the Susquehanna only, but so many 
of those, also, on the Potomac and the Ohio, the Mississippi and 
the Missouri, on all the lakes, and in all the vast Mesopotamia 



RECENT SELECTIONS. 3G3 

of the mighty West — yes, and strangers from beyond the seas, 
Irish and Scotch, German, Italian, and French — the common 
emigrant and those who have stood nearest to a throne — brave 
and devoted men from almost every nation under heaven — men 
who have measured the value of our country to the world by a 
nobler standard than the cotton crop ; and who realize that other 
and momentous destinies are at stake upon our struggle than 
such as can be wrought upon any mere material looms and shut- 
tles ■+- all, all are seen rallying beneath a common flag, and ex- 
claiming with one heart and voice : " The American Union — it 
must be, and shall be preserved." r. c. Wintkrop. 



CCLVII. 
TEE ASSAULT ON CHARLES SUMNER. 

f\$ the 22d of May, when the Senate and House had clothed 
^-^ themselves in mourning for a brother fallen in the battle of 
life, in the distant State of Missouri, the Senator from Massachu- 
setts sat in the silence of the Senate Chamber, engaged in em- 
ployments appertaining to his office, when a member from this 
House, who had taken an oath to sustain the Constitution, stole 
into the Senate, — that place which had hitherto been held 
sacred against violence, — and smote him as Cain smote his 
brother. One blow was enough ; but it did not satiate the wrath 
of that spirit which had pursued him through two days. Again, 
and again, and again, quicker and faster fell the leaden blows, 
until he was torn away from his victim, when the Senator from 
Massachusetts fell into the arms of his friends, and his blood ran 
down the floor of the Senate. 

Sir, the act was brief, and my comments on it shall be brief 
also. I denounce it in the name of the Constitution which it 
violated. I denounce it in the name of the sovereignty of Mas- 
sachusetts, which was stricken down by the blow. I denounce it 
in the name of humanity. I denounce it in the name of civili- 
zation, which it outraged. I denounce it in the name of that fair 
play, which bullies and prize-fighters respect. What, strike a 
man when he is pinioned, when he cannot respond to a blow ! 
Call you that chivalry ? In what code of honor did you get 



364 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

your authority for that ? God knows my heart. I desire to 
speak with kindness. I speak in no spirit of revenge. I do not 
believe the member has a friend who must not in his heart of 
hearts condemn the act. Even the member himself — if he has 
left a spark of that chivalry and gallantry attributed to him — 
must loathe and scorn the act. But much as I reprobate the act, 
much more do I reprobate the conduct of those who stood by 
and saw the outrage perpetrated. 0, magnanimous Slidell ! 0, 
prudent Douglas ! 0, audacious Toombs ! f 

Sir, there are questions arising out of this, which are far more 
important than those of a mere personal nature. Of these per- 
sonal considerations I shall speak when the question comes prop- 
erly before us, if I am permitted to do so. The higher question 
involves the very existence of the government itself. If, sir, 
freedom of speech is not to remain to us, what is the government 
worth ? If we from Massachusetts, or any other State, — sena- 
tors or members of the House, — are to be called to account by 
some " gallant uncle," when we utter something which 'does not 
suit their sensitive nature, we desire to know it. 

If the conflict is to be transferred from the peaceful, intellec- 
tual field to one where, it is said, u honors are easy and respon- 
sibilities equal," then we desire to know it. Massachusetts, if 
her sons and representatives are to have the rod held over them, 
— though she utters no threats, — maybe called upon to with- 
draw them to her own bosom, where she can furnish to them 
that protection which is not vouchsafed to them under the flag 
of their common country. But while she permits us to remain, 
we shall do our duty ; we shall speak whatever we choose to 
speak, whatever we will, and however we will, regardless of the 
consequences. 

Sir, the sons of Massachusetts are educated, at the knees of 
their mothers, in the doctrines of peace and good-will, and God 
knows we desire to cultivate those feelings, — feelings of social 
kindness, and public kindness. 

The House will bear witness that we have not violated or tres- 
passed upon any of them ; but, sir, if we are pushed too long 
and too far, there are men from the old Commonwealth of Mas- 
sachusetts who will not shrink from a defence of freedom of 
speech, and the State they represent, in any field where they 
may be assailed. a. Burlingame. 



RECENT SELECTIONS. 365 

ccLvm. 
STRENGTH OF TIIE GOVERNMENT. 

I" KNOW that I may be met at once by the objection that our 

~*~ general government is, alter all, but a qualified and imper- 
fect government. I may be reminded that it was from Massa- 
chusetts that the amendment came which expressly declares that 
all powers not given, are withheld. And then it may be asked, 
is there not here a manifest division of sovereignty and of power, 
and does not this show that much is wanting — that all which is 
retained at home is wanting — to constitute the full strength of 
a national government ? My answer is twofold. First, I say, 
the national government has at this moment, by force of the 
Constitution, all the strength — absolutely all — which it needs, 
or could profitably use, as a central national government. I 
answer next, that by the admirable provisions of our Constitu- 
tion, the reserved powers of every State may be, and, so far 
as that State does its duty, will be, prepared and developed to 
their utmost efficiency, and then imparted to the nation in its 
need. 

Do we want a proof and illustration of all this ? Very recent 
events have supplied one, which history will not forget, rf we do. 
How happened it that, a few weeks since, when the general gov- 
ernment seemed to be feeble, and was in peril, and the demand 
— I may as well say the cry — for help came forth — why was 
it that Massachusetts was the first to spring to the rescue ? 
Why was it that she w r as able, in four days from that in which 
this cry reached her, to add a new glory to the day of Lexing- 
ton ? Why was it that she could begin that offering of needed 
aid which has since poured itself in a full, and swollen, and 
rushing stream, into the war power of the national government ? 
Even as I ask the question, the answer is in all your minds. It 
is, that Massachusetts could do this because she had done her 
own duty beforehand. She could do this because, within her 
own bounds, she had prepared and organized her own strength, 
and stood ready for the moment when she could place it in the 
outstretched hands of the government. And other States fol- 
lowed, offering their contributions with no interval — with al- 



366 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

most too little of delay ; with a haste which was sometimes pre- 
cipitation ; with an importunate begging for acceptance — all of 
it yet far behind the earnest desire and demand of the people of 
these States, until at length we stood before an astonished world 
the strongest government on the face of the earth. 

Stronger, therefore, for all the purposes to which our national 
government should apply its strength, stronger for all the good 
it can do and all the harm it can prevent, that government is, 
as it is now constructed, and because it is so constructed, than it 
could be if it were the single, central, consolidated power of other 
nations. And it will show its strength, not by preventing all 
checks and reverses, for that is impossible ; but, as I believe, in 
prompt and thorough recovery from them. t. Parsons. 



CCLIX. 
TEE EIGEER LAW. 

TN the whole political history of our own country, there has 
been no sin so atrocious as the repudiation of a higher than 
human law. It is stark atheism ; for, with the law, this position 
virtually denies also the providence of God, and makes men and 
nations sole arbiters of their own fortunes. But " the Heavens 
do rule." If there be institutions or measures inconsistent with 
immutable rectitude, they are fostered only under the ban of a 
righteous God ; they inwrap ^the germs of their own harvest of 
shame, disorder, vice, and wretchedness ; nay, their very pros- 
perity is but the verdure and blossoming which shall mature the 
apples of Sodom. O, how often have our legislators had reason 
to recall those pregnant words of Jefferson, — sad indeed is it 
that they should have become almost too trite for repetition, 
without having worked their way into the national conscience, — 
" I tremble for my country, when I consider that God is just ! " 
The nations that have passed away, the decaying nations, the 
convulsed thrones, the smouldering rebellion-fires of the Old 
"World, reveal the elements of national decline and ruin, and hold 
out baleful signals over the career on which our republic is hur- 
rying ; assuring us, by the experience of all climes and ages, that 
slavery, the unprincipled lust of power and territory, official cor- 



RECENT SELECTIONS. 367 

ruption and venality, aggressive war, partisan legislation, are but 
"sowing the wind to reap the whirlwind." 

Our statesmen of the " manifest destiny " type seem to imagine 
our country necessary to the designs of Providence. So thought 
the Hebrews, and on far more plausible grounds, of their com- 
monwealth ; but, rather than fulfil to such degenerate descend- 
ants the promise made to their great ancestor, " God is able," 
said the divine Teacher, " of these stones to raise up children 
unto Abraham." 

Our destiny must be evolved, not from the blending of the 
world's noblest races in our ancestral stock ; not from a posi- 
tion in which we hold the keys of the world's commerce, and 
can say to the North, " Give up," and to the South, " Keep not 
back ; " not from our capacity to absorb and assimilate immi- 
grant millions. Destiny is but the concrete of character. God 
needs no man or nation. He will bring in the reign of everlast- 
ing righteousness ; and as a people, we must stand or fall as we 
accept or spurn that reign. Brethren, scholars^ patriots also, I 
trust, — you whose generous nurture gives you large and endur- 
ing influence, — seek for the country of your pride and love, 
above all things else, her establishment on the eternal right as on 
the Rock of Ages. Thus shall there be no spot on her fame, 
no limit to her growth, no waning to her glory. 

A. P. Peabody. 



CCLX. 
" STEP TO THE CAPTAIN'S OFFICE AND SETTLE." 

rjlHIS old watchword, so often heard by travellers in the early 
stages of steam-navigation, is now and then ringing in our ears 
with a very pointed and pertinent application. It is a note that 
belongs to all the responsibilities of this life for eternity. There 
is a day of reckoning, a day for the settlement of accounts. All 
unpaid bills will then have to be paid ; all unbalanced books will 
have to be settled. There will be no loose memorandums for- 
gotten ; there will be no heedless commissioners for the con- 
venience of careless consciences ; there will be no proxies ; there 
will be no bribed auditors. Neither will there be such a thing 
as a hesitating conscience ; but the inward monitor, so often 



S 



368 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

drugged and silenced on earth, will speak out. There will be no 
doubt nor question as to the right and wrong. There will be 
no vain excuses, nor any attempt to make them. There will be no 
more sophistry, no more considerations of expediency, no more 
pleading of the laws of men and the customs of society, no more 
talk about organic sins being converted into constructive right- 
eousness, or collective and corporate frauds releasing men from 
individual responsibilities. 

When we see a man, a professed Christian, running a race 
with the worshippers of wealth and fashion, absorbed in the 
vanities of the world, or endeavoring to serve both God and 
mammon, we hear the voice, Step to the capain's office and set- 
tle ! When we see editors and politicians setting power in the 
place of goodness, and expediency in the place of justice, 
and law in the place of equity, and custom in the place of 
right, putting darkness for light, and evil for good, and tyr- 
anny for general benevolence, we think of the day when the 
issuers of such counterfeit money will be brought to light, and 
their sophistries and lies exposed, — for among the whole tribe 
of unprincipled politicians there will be great consternation when 
the call comes to step to the captain's office and settle. When 
we see unjust rulers in their pride of power fastening chains 
upon the bondmen, oppressing the poor, and playing their pranks 
of defiant tyranny before high heaven, then also come these 
words to mind, like a blast from the last trumpet, Step to the 
captain's office and settle ! g. B. Cheever. 



CCLXI. 
TEE MURDER OF TEE SOUL. 

HP HERE are some people whose sympathies have been excited 
upon the subject of slavery, who, if they can only be satis- 
fied that the slaves have enough to eat, think it is all very well, 
and that nothing more is to be said or done. 

If slaves were merely animals, whose only or chief enjoyment 
consisted in the gratification of their bodily appetites, there would 
be some show of sense in this conclusion. But, in fact, however 
crushed and brutified, they are still men; men whose bosoms 
beat with the same passions as our own ; whose hearts swell with 



RECENT SELECTIONS. 369 

the same aspirations, — the same ardent desire to improve their 
condition ; the same wishes for what they have not ; the same 
indifference towards what they have ; the same restless love of 
social superiority ; the same greediness of acquisition ; the same 
desire to know ; the same impatience of all external control. 

The excitement which the singular case of Caspar Hauser 
produced a few years since in Germany, is not yet forgotten. 
From the representations of that enigmatical personage, it was 
believed that those from whose custody he declared himself to 
have escaped, had endeavored to destroy his intellect, or rather 
to prevent it from being developed, so as to detain him forever 
in a state of infantile imbecility. This supposed attempt at what 
they saw fit to denominate the murder of the soul, gave rise to 
great discussions among the German jurists ; and they soon 
raised it into a new crime, which they placed at the very head of 
social enormities. 

It is this very crime, the murder of the soul, which is in the 
course of continuous and perpetual perpetration throughout the 
Southern States of the American Union ; and not upon a single 
individual only, but upon nearly one half of the entire popula- 
tion. 

Consider the slaves as men, and the course of treatment which 
custom and the laws prescribe is an artful, deliberate, and well- 
digested scheme to break their spirit ; to deprive them of cour- 
age and of manhood ; to destroy their natural desire for an equal 
participation in the benefits of society ; to keep them ignorant, 
and therefore weak ; to reduce them, if possible, to a state of 
idiocy ; to crowd them down to a level with the brutes. 

E. Hildreth. 



CCLXII. 
JUDICIAL TRIBUNALS. 

BT ET me here say that I hold judges, and especially the Su- 
"^ preme Court of the country, in much respect ; but I am too 
familiar with the history of judicial proceedings to regard them 
with any superstitious reverence. Judges are but men, and in 
all ages have shown a full share of frailty. Alas ! alas ! the 
worst crimes of history have been perpetrated under their sano- 
21 



370 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

tion. The blood of martyrs and of patriots, crying from the 
ground, summons them to judgment. 

It was a judicial tribunal which condemned Socrates to drink 
the fatal hemlock, and which pushed the Saviour barefoot over 
the pavements of Jerusalem, bending beneath his cross. It was 
a judicial tribunal which, against the testimony and entreaties 
of her father, surrendered the fair Virginia as a slave ; which 
arrested the teachings of the great apostle to the Gentiles, and 
sent him in bonds from Judea to Rome ; which, in the name of 
the Old Religion, adjudged the saints and fathers of the Chris- 
tian Church to death, in all its most dreadful forms ; and which 
afterwards, in the name of the New Religion, enforced the tor- 
tures of the Inquisition, amidst the shrieks and agonies of its 
victims, while it compelled Galileo to declare, in solemn denial 
of the great truth he had disclosed, that the earth did not move 
round the sun. 

It was a judicial tribunal which, in France, during the long 
reign of her monarchs, lent itself to be the instrument of every 
tyranny, as during the brief reign of terror it did not hesitate to 
stand forth the unpitying accessory of the unpitying guillotine. 
Ay, sir, it was a judicial tribunal in England, surrounded by all the 
forms of law, which sanctioned every despotic caprice of Henry 
the Eighth, from the unjust divorce of his queen, to the behead- 
ing of Sir Thomas More ; which lighted the fires of persecution 
that glowed at Oxford and Smithfield, over the cinders of Lati- 
mer, Ridley, and John Rogers ; which, after elaborate argument, 
upheld the fatal tyranny of ship-money against the patriotic re- i 
sistance of Hampden ; which, in defiance of justice and human- 
ity, sent Sydney and Russell to the block ; which persistently 
enforced the laws of Conformity that our Puritan Fathers persist- 
ently refused to obey ; and which afterwards, with Jeffries on 
the bench, crimsoned the pages of English history with massacre 
and murder — even with the blood of innocent woman. 

Ay, sir, and it was a judicial tribunal in our country, sur- 
rounded by all the forms of law, which hung witches at Salem, ; 
— which affirmed the constitutionality of the Stamp Act, while 
it admonished "jurors and the people" to obey, — and which 
now, in our day, has lent its sanction to the unutterable atrocity 
of the Fugitive Slave Bill. C. Sumner. 



RECENT SELECTIONS. 371 



ccLxni. 
SLAVERY THE MAINSPRING OF THE REBELLION. 

HP HE whole quantity of slave-owners, great and small, accord- 
ing to the recent census, is not more than four hundred 
thousand ; out of whom there are not more than one hundred 
thousand who are interested to any considerable extent in this 
peculiar species of property ; and yet this petty oligarchy — it- 
self controlled by a squad still more petty — in a population of 
many millions, has aroused and organized this gigantic rebellion. 
The future historian will record that the present rebellion — not- 
withstanding its protracted origin, the multitudes it has enlisted, 
and its extensive sweep — was at last precipitated by fewer than 
twenty men ; Mr. Everett says, by as few as ten. It is certain 
that thus far it has been the triumph of a minority ; but of a 
minority moved, inspired, combined, and aggrandized by slavery. 
And now this traitorous minority, putting aside all the lurking, 
slimy devices of conspiracy, steps forth in the full panoply of 
war. Assuming to itself all the functions of a government, it 
organizes States under a common head — sends ambassadors into 
foreign countries — levies taxes — borrows money — issues let- 
ters of marque — and sets armies in the field, summoned from 
distant Georgia, Louisiana, and Texas, as well as from nearer 
Virginia, and composed of the whole lawless population — the 
poor who cannot own slaves as well as the rich who own them — 
throughout the extensive region where, with satanic grasp, this 
slaveholding minority claims for itself 

" — ample room and verge enough 
The characters of hell to trace." 

Pardon the language which I employ. The words of the poet do 
not picture too strongly the object proposed. And now these 
parricidal hosts stand arrayed openly against that paternal Gov- 
ernment to which they owed loyalty, protection, and affection. 
Never in history did rebellion assume such a front. Call their 
numbers four hundred thousand or two hundred thousand — 
what you will — they far surpass any armed forces ever before 
marshalled in rebellion ; they are among the largest ever mar- 
shalled in war. 



372 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

And all this is in the name of slavery, and for the sake of sla- 
very, and at the bidding of slavery. The profligate favorite of 
the English monarch — the famous Duke of Buckingham — was 
not more exclusively supreme — even according to those words 
by which he was exposed to the judgment of his contemporaries : 

" Who rules the kingdom ? The king. 

" Who rules the king ? Tlie Duke. 

" Who rules the Duke ? The Devil." 
The prevailing part here attributed to the royal favorite belongs 
now to slavery, which in the rebel States is a more than royal 
favorite. 

Who rules the rebel States ? The President. 

Who rules the President ? Slavery. 

Who rules slavery ? 

The latter question I need not answer. But all must see — and 
nobody can deny — that slavery is the ruling idea of this rebel- 
lion. It is slavery which marshals these hosts and breathes into 
their embattled ranks its own barbarous fire. It is slavery 
which stamps its character alike upon officers and men. It is 
slavery which inspires all, from the general to the trumpeter. It 
is slavery which speaks in the words of command, and which 
sounds in the morning drum-beat. It is slavery which digs 
trenches and builds hostile forts. It is slavery which pitches its 
white tents and stations its sentries over against the national 
capital. It is slavery which sharpens the bayonet and casts the 
bullet ; which points the cannon and scatters the shell, blazing, 
bursting with death. Wherever this rebellion shows itself — 
whatever form it takes — whatever thing it does — whatever it 
meditates — it is moved by slavery ; nay, it is slavery itself, in- 
carnate, living, acting, raging, robbing, murdering, according to 
the essential law of its being. c. Sumner. 



CCLXIV. 
ABOLITION OF SLAVERY IN TEE DISTRICT OF COLUMBIA. ' 

1%/TR. PRESIDENT, with unspeakable delight I hail this = 
measure and the prospect of its speedy adoption. It is , 
the first instalment of that great debt which we all owe to an 



RECENT SELECTIONS. 373 

enslaved race, and will be recognized in history as one of the 
victories of humanity. At home, throughout our own country, 
it will be welcomed with gratitude, while abroad it will quicken 
the hopes of all who love freedom. Liberal institutions will 
gain everywhere by the abolition of slavery at the national Capi- 
tal. Nobody can read that slaves were once sold in the markets 
of Rome, beneath the eyes of the sovereign Pontiff, without con- 
fessing the scandal to religion, even in a barbarous age ; and 
nobody can hear that slaves are now sold in the markets of 
Washington, beneath the eyes of the President, without confess- 
ing the scandal to liberal institutions. For the sake of our good 
name, if not for the sake of justice, let the scandal disappear. 

Slavery, beginning in violence, can have no legal or constitu- 
tional existence, unless through positive words expressly author- 
izing it. As no such positive words can be found in the Consti- 
tution, all legislation by Congress supporting slavery must be 
unconstitutional and void, while it is made still further impossible 
by positive words of prohibition guarding the liberty of every 
person within the exclusive jurisdiction of Congress. But the 
question is asked, Shall we vote money for this purpose ? I can- 
not hesitate ; and I place it at once under the sanction of that 
commanding charity proclaimed by prophets and enjoined by 
apostles, which all history recognizes and which the Constitution 
cannot impair. From time immemorial every government has 
undertaken to ransom its subjects from captivity, -r— and some- 
times a whole people has felt its resources well bestowed in the 
ransom of its prince. Religion and humanity have both con- 
curred in this duty, as more than usually sacred. " The ransom 
of captives is a great and excelling office of justice," exclaims 
one of the early fathers. The power thus commended has been 
exercised by the United States under important circumstances 
with the cooperation of the best names of our history, so as to 
be without question. 

If slavery be unconstitutional in the national Capital, and if it 
be a Christian duty, sustained by constitutional examples, to ran- 
som slaves, then your swift desires cannot hesitate to adopt the 
present bill, and it becomes needless to enter upon other ques- 
tions, important perhaps, but irrelevant. C. Sumner. 



874 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

CCLXV. 
THE SAME CONCLUDED. 

/~\F course, I scorn to argue the obvious truth that the slaves 
^S here are as much entitled to freedom as the white slaves 
that enlisted the early energies of our Government. They are 
men by the grace of God, and this is enough. There is no prin- 
ciple of the Constitution, and no rule of justice, which is not as 
strong for the one as for the other. In consenting to the ransom 
proposed, you will recognize their manhood, and, if authority be 
needed, you will find it in the example of Washington, who did 
not hesitate to employ a golden key to open the house of bond- 
age. 

Let this bill pass, and the first practical triumph of freedom, 
for which good men have longed, dying without the sight — for 
which a whole generation has petitioned, and for which orators 
and statesmen have pleaded — will at last be accomplished. 
Slavery will be banished from the national Capital. This metrop- 
olis, which bears a venerated name, will be purified ; its evil 
spirit will be cast out ; its shame will be removed ; its society 
will be refined ; its courts will be made better ; its revolting or- 
dinances will be swept away ; and even its loyalty will be 
secured. If not moved by justice to the slave, then be willing 
to act for your own good and in self-defence. If you hesitate to 
pass this bill for the blacks, then pass it for the whites. Nothing 
is clearer than that the degradation of slavery affects the master 
as much as the slave ; while recent events testify, that wherever 
slavery exists, there treason lurks, if it does not flaunt. From 
the beginning of this rebellion, slavery has been constantly mani- 
fest in the conduct of the masters, and even here in the national 
Capital, it has been the traitorous power which has encouraged 
and strengthened the enemy. This power must be suppressed 
at every cost, and if its suppression here endangers slavery else- 
where, there will be a new motive for determined action. 

Amidst all present solicitudes the future cannot be doubtful. 
At the national Capital slavery will give way to freedom ; but 
the good work will not stop here. It must proceed. What God 
and nature decree rebellion cannot arrest. And as the whole 



RECENT SELECTIONS. 375 

wide-spreading tyranny begins to tumble, then, above the din of 
battle, sounding from the sea and echoing along the land, above 
even the exultations of victory on well-fought fields, will ascend 
voices of gladness and benediction, swelling from generous hearts 
wherever civilization bears sway, to commemorate a sacred tri- 
Timph whose trophies, instead of tattered banners, will be ran- 
somed slaves. C. Sumner. 



CCLXVI. 
EXTRACT FROM FAREWELL ADDRESS AT NEW ORLEANS. 

[ SHALL speak in no bitterness, because I am not conscious 
-*- of a single personal animosity. Commanding the Army of 
the Gulf, I found you captured, but not surrendered ; conquered, 
but not orderly ; relieved from the presence of an army, but in- 
capable of taking care of yourselves. I restored order, punished 
crime, opened commerce, brought provisions to your starving 
people, reformed your currency, and gave you quiet protection, 
such as you had not enjoyed for many years. The enemies of 
my country, unrepentant and implacable, I have treated with 
merited severity. I hold that rebellion is treason, and that trea- 
son persisted in is death, and any punishment short of that due a 
traitor gives so much clear gain to him from the clemency of the 
government. Upon this thesis have I administered the authority 
of the United States, because of which I am not unconscious of 
complaint. I do not feel that I have erred in too much harsh- 
ness, for that harshness has ever been exhibited to disloyal ene- 
mies to my country, and not to my loyal friends. To be sure, I 
might have regaled you with the amenities of British civilization, 
and yet been within the supposed rules of civilized warfare. 
You might have been smoked to death in caverns, as were the 
Covenanters of Scotland, by the command of a general of the 
royal house of England ; or roasted, like the inhabitants of Algiers 
during the French campaign ; your wives and daughters might 
have been given over to the ravisher, as were the unfortunate 
dames of Spain in the Peninsular war ; or you might have been 
scalped and tomahawked, as our mothers were at Wyoming by 
the savage allies of Great Britain, in our own Revolution ; your 



376 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

property could have been turned over to indiscriminate " loot," 
like the palace of the Emperor of China ; works of art which 
adorned your buildings might have been sent away, like the 
paintings of the Vatican ; your sons might have been blown 
from the mouths of cannon, like the Sepoys at Delhi ; and yet 
all this would have been within the rules of civilized warfare as 
practised by the most polished and the most hypocritical nations 
of Europe. For such acts the records of the doings of some of 
the inhabitants of your city toward the friends of the Union, 
before my coming, were a sufficient provocative and justification. 
But I have not so conducted. On the contrary, the worst pun- 
ishment inflicted, except for criminal acts punishable by every 
law, has been banishment with labor to a barren island, where I 
encamped my own soldiers before marching here. 

It is true I have levied upon the wealthy rebels, and paid out 
nearly half a million of dollars to feed forty thousand of the 
starving poor of all nations assembled here, made so by this war. 
I saw that this rebellion was a war of the aristocrats against the 
middling men — of the rich against the poor ; a war of the land- 
owner against the laborer ; that it was a struggle for the reten- 
tion of power in the hands of the few against the many ; and I 
found no conclusion to it, save in the subjugation of the few and 
the disenthralment of the many. I, therefore, felt no hesitation 
in taking the substance of the wealthy, who had caused the war, 
to feed the innocent poor, who had suffered by the war. And I 
shall now leave you with the proud consciousness that I carry 
with me the blessings of the humble and loyal, under the roof of 
the cottage and in the cabin of the slave, and so am quite content 
to incur the sneers of the salon, or the curses of the rich. 

B. F. Butler. 



cclxvh. 

CONCLUSION OF FAREWELL ADDRESS AT NEW ORLEANS. 

T FOUND you trembling at the terrors of servile insurrection. 
-*- All danger of this I have prevented by so treating the slave 
that he had no cause to rebel. I found the dungeon, the chain, 
and. the lash your only means of enforcing obedience in your 
servants. I leave them peaceful, laborious, controlled by the 



RECENT SELECTIONS. 377 

laws of kindness and justice. I have demonstrated that the pes- 
tilence can be kept from your borders. I have added a million 
of dollars to your wealth in the form of new land from the bat- 
ture of the Mississippi. I have cleansed and improved your 
streets, canals, and public squares, and opened new avenues to 
unoccupied land. I have given you freedom of elections greater 
than you have ever enjoyed before. I have caused justice to be 
administered so impartially that your own advocates have unani- 
mously complimented the judges of my appointment. You have 
seen, therefore, the benefit of the laws and justice of the govern- 
ment against which you have rebelled. Why, then, will you not 
all return to your allegiance to that government, — not with lip- 
service, but with the heart. 

I conjure you, if you desire ever to see renewed prosperity, 
giving business to your streets and wharves — if you hope to see 
your city become again the mart of the Western world, fed by its 
rivers for more than three thousand miles, draining the commerce 
of a country greater than the mind of man hath ever conceived — 
return to your allegiance. If you desire to leave to your chil- 
dren the inheritance you received from your fathers — a stable 
constitutional government ; if you desire that they should in the 
future* be a portion of the greatest empire the sun ever shone 
upon — return to your allegiance. 

There is but one thing that stands in the way. There is but 
one thing that at this hour stands between you and the Government 
— and that is slavery. The institution, cursed of God, which 
has taken its last refuge here, in His providence will be rooted 
out as the tares from the wheat, although the wheat be torn up 
with it. I have given much thought to the subject. I came 
among you, by teachings, by habit of mind, by political position, 
by social affinity, inclined to sustain your domestic laws, if by 
possibility they might be with safety to the Union. Months of 
experience and observation have forced the conviction that the 
existence of slavery is incompatible with the safety either of 
yourselves or of the Union. As the system has gradually grown to 
its present huge dimensions, it were best if it could gradually be 
removed ; but it is better, far better, that it should be taken out 
at once, than that it should longer vitiate the social, political, and 
family relations of your country. I am speaking with no phil- 



378 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

anthropic views as regards the slave, but simply of the effect of 
slavery on the master. 

See for yourselves. Look around you and say whether this 
saddening, deadening influence has not all but destroyed the very 
framework of your society. I am speaking the farewell words of 
one who has shown his devotion to his country at the peril of his 
life and his fortune, who, in these words, can have neither hope 
nor interest, save the good of those he addresses ; and let me here 
repeat, with all the solemnity of an appeal to Heaven to bear me 
witness, that such are the views forced upon me by experience. 
Come, then, to the unconditional support of the Government. 
Take into your own hands your own institutions ; remodel them 
according to the laws of nations and of God, and thus attain that 
great prosperity assured to you by geographical position, only a 
portion of which was heretofore yours. b. F. Buihr. 



cclxvih. 

RECONSTRUCTION OF THE UNION. 

I" AM not for the Union as it was. I have the honor to say, 
-*■ asa Democrat, and as an Andrew Jackson Democrat, I am 
not for the Union as it was, because I saw, or thought I saw, the 
troubles in the future which have burst upon us ; but having 
undergone those troubles, having spent all this blood and this 
treasure, I do not mean to go back again and be cheek by jole, 
as I was before, with South Carolina, if I can help it. Mark 
me now ; let no man misunderstand me ; and I repeat, lest I 
may be misunderstood (for there are none so difficult to under- 
stand as those who do not wish to) — mark me again, — I say, I 
do not mean to give up a single inch of the soil of South Carolina. 
If I had been living at that' time, and had the position, the will, 
and the ability, I would have dealt with South Carolina as Jack- 
son did, and kept her in the Union at all hazards ; but now that 
she has gone out, I would take care that when she comes in again 
she should come in better behaved ; that she should no longer be 
the firebrand of the Union, ay, that she should enjoy what her 
people never yet enjoyed, the blessings of a republican form of 
government. And, therefore, in that view I am not for the re- 



RECENT SELECTIONS. 379 

construction of the Union as it was. I have spent treasure and 
blood enough upon it, in conjunction with my fellow-citizens, to 
make it a little better, and I think we can have a better Union. 
It was good enough if it had been let alone. The old house was 
good enough for me, but the South pulled it down, and I propose, 
when we build it up, to build it up with all the modern improve- 
ments. 

And one of the logical sequences, it seems to me, that fol- 
low inexorably and inevitably, from the proposition that we are 
dealing with alien enemies, is the question, what is our duty 
in regard to the confiscation of their property ? And that would 
seem to me to be very easy of settlement under the Constitu- 
tion, and without any discussion, if my proposition is right. 
Has it not been held from the beginning of the world down to 
this day, from the time the Israelites took possession of the land 
of Canaan r which they got from alien enemies, has it not been 
held that the whole of the property of those alien enemies be- 
longs to the conqueror, and that it has been at his mercy and his 
clemency what should be done with it ? And for one, I would 
take it and give it to the loyal man — loyal from the heart, — 
at the South, enough at least to make him as well as he was 
before ; and I would take the rest of it and distribute it anions: 
the volunteer soldiers who have gone forth in the service of their 
country ; and so far as I know them, if we should settle South 
Carolina with them, in the course of a few years, I should be 
quite willing to receive her back into the Union. 

B. F. Butler. 



CCLXIX. 
SPEECH AT THE UNION SQUARE MEETING IN NEW YORK. 

T3UT we are called upon to act. There is no time for hesita- 
~^^ tion or indecision — no time for haste and excitement. It 
is a time when the people should rise in the majesty of their 
might, stretch forth their strong arm, and silence the angry waves 
of tumult. It is time the people should command peace. It is 
a question between union and anarchy — between law and dis- 
order. All politics for the time being are and should be com- 
mitted to the oblivion of the grave. The question should be, 



380 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

" Our country, our whole country, and nothing but our country." 
"We should go forward in a manner becoming a great people. 
But six months ago, the material prosperity of our country was 
at its greatest height. To-day, by the fiat of madness, we are 
plunged in distress and threatened with political ruin, anarchy, 
and annihilation. It becomes us to stay the hands of this spirit 
of disunion. The voice of the Empire State can be potential 
in this unnatural strife. She has mighty power for union. She 
has great wealth and influence, and she must bring forward 
that wealth and exert that influence. She has numerous men, 
and she must send them to the field, and in the plenitude of 
her power command the public peace. This is a great commer- 
cial city — one of the modern wonders of the earth. With 
all the great elements that surround her, with her commercial 
renown, with her architectural magnificence, and with her enter- 
prise and energy, she is capable of exercising a mighty power 
for good in silencing the angry waves of agitation. 

While I would prosecute this war in a manner becoming a civ- 
ilized and a Christian people, I would do so in no vindictive 
spirit. I would do it as Brutus set the signet to the death-war- 
rant of his son — " Justice is satisfied, and Rome is free." I love 
my country ; I love this Union. It was the first vision of my 
early years ; it is the last ambition of my public life. Upon 
its altar I have surrendered my choicest hopes. I had fondly 
hoped that in approaching age it was to beguile my solitary 
hours, and I will stand by it as long as there is a Union to stand 
by — and when the ship of the Union shall crack and groan, 
when the skies lower and threaten, when the lightnings flash, the 
thunders roar, the storms beat, and the waves run mountain-high, 
if the ship of State goes down, and the Union perishes, I would 
rather perish with it than survive its destruction. Let us, my 
friends, stay up the hands of Union men in other sections of 
the country. How much have they sacrificed of advantage, of 
national wealth, of political promotion ! Let us aid them and 
cheer them on. Let us, my fellow-citizens, rally round the flag 
of our country, the flag of our fathers, the glorious flag known 
and honored throughout the earth, and now rendered more illus- 
trious by the gallant Anderson. In the spirit of peace and forbear- 
ance he waved it over Fort Sumter. The pretended authorities 



RECENT SELECTIONS. 381 

of South Carolina and the other Southern States attacked him 
because they seemed to consider him a kind of minister plenipo- 
tentiary. Let us maintain our flag in the same noble spirit that 
animated him, and never desert it while one star is left. If I 
could see my bleeding, torn, maddened, and distracted country 
once more restored to quiet and lasting peace under those glo- 
rious stars and stripes, I should almost be ready to take the oath 
of the infatuated leader in Israel — Jephthah — and swear to 
sacrifice the first living thing that I should meet on my return 
from victory. J). S. Dickinson. 



CCLXX. 
THE PERPETUITY OF THE UNION. 

f~*i IVE up the Union ? Never ! The Union shall endure, 
^-^ and its praises shall be heard when its friends and its foes, 
those who support, and those who assail, those who bare their 
bosoms in its defence, and those who aim their daggers at its 
heart, shall all sleep in the dust together. Its name shall be heard 
with veneration amid the roar of the Pacific's waves, away upon 
the river of the North and East where liberty is divided from 
monarchy, and be wafted in gentle breezes upon the Rio Grande. 
It shall rustle in the harvest and wave in the standing corn, on 
the extended prairies of the West, and be heard in the bleating 
folds and lowing herds upon a thousand hills. It shall be with 
those who delve in mines, and shall hum in the manufactories 
of New England, and in the cotton-gins of the South. It shall 
be proclaimed by the Stars and Stripes in every sea of earth, as 
the American Union, one and indivisible ; upon the great thor- 
oughfares, wherever steam drives, and engines throb and shriek, 
its greatness and perpetuity shall be hailed with gladness. It 
shall be lisped in the earliest words, and ring in the merry voices 
of childhood, and swell to Heaven upon the song of maidens. 
It shall live in the stern resolve of manhood, and rise to the 
mercy-seat upon woman's gentle availing prayer. Holy men 
shall invoke its perpetuity at the altars of religion, and - it shall 
be whispered in the last accents of expiring age. Thus shall 
survive and be perpetuated the American Union ; and when it 
shall be proclaimed that time shall be no more, and the curtain 



382 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

shall fall, and the good shall be gathered to a more perfect 
union, still may the destiny of our dear land recognize the con- 
ception, that 

" Perfumes as of Eden flowed sweetly along, 
And a voice, as of angels, enchantingly sung, 
Columbia, Columbia, to glory arise, 
The Queen of the world, and the child of the skies." 

D. S. Dickinson. 



CCLXXI. 
OUR REFORMERS. 

"I^THAT to-day is the position of the men who, for the past 
thirty years, have worked to bring our practice into con- 
formity with the principles of the Government, and who, in 
the struggle against established and powerful interests, have 
accepted political disability and humiliated lives ? Have any of 
these been put in governing places where their proved fidelity 
would guarantee the direct execution of what is to-day the nearly 
unanimous will of the people ? Certainly not yet. So far, the 
virtue of the reformers is its own reward. While they are yet 
living, their mantles have fallen upon the shoulders of others to 
whom you have given high position, but they are still laboring 
in narrow paths — broadening, to be sure, and brightening — for 
the rough ground is passed, and their sun of victory is already 
rising. We give deep sympathy and honor to the men who, in 
the interests of civilization, separated themselves from mankind 
to penetrate the chill solitudes of the Arctic regions. Their 
names remain an added constellation in polar skies. But, we 
know that bitter skies and winter winds are not so unkind as 
man's ingratitude. And why, then, do we withhold sympathy 
and honor from these men who have so unflinchingly trod their 
isolated paths of self-appointed duty, accepting political and social 
excommunication — these heroes of the moral solitudes ? But 
even as it is, our reformers have a better lot than history usually 
records for such ; they have the satisfaction not only to see but to 
enter, with the people whom they led, into the promised land. 
And perhaps they are well satisfied to repose, and to rest upon 
their finished work, feeling surely that they have been faithful 



RECENT SELECTIONS. 383 

servants and that their country will yet say to them, " Well 
done ! " 

Sometimes, in unfamiliar countries, the traveller finds him- 
self shrouded in fog and the way so hidden, the features of the 
country so singularly changed from the reality, that he cannot 
safely move. But if some friendly mountain side lets him as- 
cend a few hundred feet above, he finds himself suddenly in a 
clear atmosphere with a blue sky and a shining sun. Below him 
the smaller objects that misled and bewildered him lie hidden ; 
before him stand out, salient and clear, the leading ridges and 
great outlines of the country which point out to him the right 
way, and show him where he may reach a place of security and 
repose for the night, and he goes on his journey confidently. 
And so it is with those men who devote their lives, unflinchingly 
and singly, to the public good — to the maintenance of principles 
and the advocacy of great reforms. They live in a pure atmos- 
phere. And such ought also to be the character of the men 
whom we elevate to our high places. Raised into that upper air, 
and charged with the general safety, they are expected to be im- 
personal ; they are expected to see over and beyond the personal 
ambitions and individual interests which of necessity influence 
men acting individually ; their horizon is universal, and they see 
broadly defined the great principles which lead a nation continu- 
ously on to a settled prosperity and a sure glory. And as a 
condition of our material safety we should see to it that only 
such men are put in such places. Men capable of receiving a 
conviction and realizing a necessity — men able to comprehend 
the spirit of the age and the country in which we live, and fear- 
less in working up to it. J. C. Fremont. 



CCLXXII. 
PUBLIC RUMOR. 

rpiIE counsel for the prosecution has said that if the Reverend 
defendant has not been duly charged with heretical teach- 
ings by actual evidence, he has been so charged by public rumor ; 
and he gravely contends that a clergyman charged by public 
rumor may be required to exculpate himself before an ecclesi- 
astical council. 



384 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

There is a passion known among men as the most eager, im- 
placable, remorseless of passions, — a moral curiosity, named 
by psychologists the odium theologicum. It thrives on the 
slightest possible food. . It lives on air. Public rumor is sub- 
stantial enough for its richest diet. Public Rumor ! I was 
educated to despise it. An established public opinion, we must 
treat with due respect, but disparaging rumor, however public, 
I should be ashamed to own as a motive for one action of my 
life. When the counsel for the prosecution passed his eulogy 
on the memory of Dr. Croswell, I could not but think what a 
rebuke his whole life was to public rumor. If ever man was 
the destined victim of public rumor, that man was William 
Croswell. Not left to its low haunts, but elevated by Epis- 
copal sanction, promulgated by Episcopal proclamation, it charged 
him with teaching doctrines and observances " degrading to the 
character of the Church and perilling the souls of the people." 
But in patience and confidence he lived it all down. He went 
forward in the discharge of his noble duties, in daily prayers, 
daily public service, daily ministrations to the poor, sick and 
afflicted, not without much suffering from the relentless attacks 
of party spirit, — sufferings which shortened his days on earth, 
— and the daily beauty of his life made ugly the countenance 
of detraction and defamation. Public confidence, a plant of 
slow growth, grew about him. Public justice was rendered to 
him without a movement of his own. He fell, at his post, 
with all his armor on. At the time of the evening sacrifice, 
the angel touched him and he was called away. He fell, with 
his face to the altar, with the words of benediction on his lips, 
surrounded by a devoted congregation, mourned by an entire 
community. All men rose up and called him blessed. From 
the distinguished Rector of St. Paul's, exclaiming, in the words 
of the prophet, " My father, my father, the chariots of Israel 
and the horsemen thereof!" to the humble orphan child in the 
obscure alley, who missed his daily returning visit, — all, all, 
with one accord, sent up their voices as incense to Heaven. 

I had the privilege to be one of the number who received him 
on his entrance into this city, to take charge of his newly formed 
parish. I am proud and grateful to remember that I was one 
of those on whom, in his long struggle, in a measure, according 



RECENT SELECTIONS. 385 

to my ability, he leaned for support. And after seven years, 
I believe seven years to the very day that we received him, I 
had the melancholy privilege, with that same company, of bear- 
ing his body up that aisle which he had so often ascended in 
his native dignity and in the beauty of holiness. 

I should be an unworthy parishioner, pupil, I may say friend 
of his, if I allowed myself to defer for a moment to public 
rumor on a question of character or principle. I should be for- 
getful of his example if I permitted any one to do so who 
looked to me for counsel or direction. No, gentlemen, let us all, 
laymen or clergymen, call to mind his life and his death, and let 
public rumor blow past us as the idle wind. r. e. Dana, Jr. 



ccLxxm. 

THE POLITICAL ENFRANCHISEMENT OF THE NORTH. 

"1%/TR. CHAIRMAN: Will the people of the Free States 
unite in one earnest effort to recover their personal and 
political equality, and to retrieve the honor of the country ? It 
must be done ! But, let us not deceive ourselves. The task is 
no easy one. Oligarchies have ruled the world. Our national 
government has always been qualified by the element of a slave- 
holding aristocracy. This aristocracy is powerful, — powerful 
in its unity of interest, the common slave property, with its values 
and its perils. It is powerful in its character as a caste. Unlike 
all other modern aristocracies it is a caste, and the most for- 
midable, exclusive and ineradicable of all castes — a caste founded 
on race and color. It is powerful in the ordinary elements of 
power which oligarchies possess. The slaveholding education 
gives elements of control, tne bearing and habit of command, 
and the assertion of superiority. This exercises its influence 
over weak minds. People doubtful of their own gentility bow 
to the established aristocracy of slavery. The thing that hath 
been is that which shall be, and there is no new thing under 
the sun. 

What forces are we to bring into the field against them ? — 
the divided, heterogeneous masses of a free and equal people. 
The vast class of the timid, mercenary and time-serving belong 
25 ' 



386 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

to the strongest. Slavery has had them. We shall never have 
them until we show ourselves the strongest. Will the trading 
and moneyed interests, so powerful in the Northern cities, do 
their duty ? Is there force enough, virtue enough, in our thir- 
teen millions to assert their political equality, to achieve their 
own enfranchisement, to make freedom national and slavery sec- 
tional ; to secure the future to freedom ? The few next years 
will answer this question. You appeal to the spirit of 1776. 
Remember that the Dutch revolution was as glorious as our 
own. Holland began in civil and religious liberty, with hero- 
ism, freedom, industry and prosperity. In time the Dutch 
learned to make material interests their ruling motive. They 
ceased to live for ideas, and where are they now ? Prosperous, 
educated, industrious and — despised ! The high tone, the glory 
— is gone ! 

But is such to be the fate of Massachusetts, — of New Eng- 
land ? Massachusetts, in times past, has lived and suffered for 
ideas, for principles, for abstractions. Powerful influences have 
been exerted, from the highest quarters, to bring her into sub- 
jection to material interests and unheroic maxims, to sap the 
chivalry and enthusiasm of her youth. But it is not too late. 
Let her slough this all off, in her hour of trial ! Let her cast 
off her disguises and her rags together, and stand forth in the 
garb and attitude of a hero ! This work must be done. If the 
men of scholarship and accomplishments and wealth who have 
heretofore enjoyed prominence, do not feel themselves up to 
the work, the people will call the cobbler from his stall, the 
factory-boy from his loom, the yeoman from his plough, but the 
work shall be done. Fishermen and tent-makers renovated 
the world. The Roman centurion was sent to a fisherman who 
lodged at the house of a tanner by the sea-side, to hear what 
should be done for mankind. 

Why do we hesitate ? What provocation more do we pro- 
pose to wait for? They have added Slave States by a coup 
(Fetat : shall we wait until they have added Cuba and Mexico ? 
They are forcing slavery upon the Territories : must we wait 
until they have succeeded? They have violated one solemn 
compact : how many more must they break before we assert our 
right ? They have struck down a Senator in his place. They 



RECENT SELECTIONS. 387 

are already designating the next victim: must we wait until 
he has fallen ? The Senator from Georgia spoke truth when he 
said the deed was done in the right time and right manner. 
There needed* an act as bad as it could be made to rouse the 
spirit of the North. Let the priest be slain at the altar-stone. 
Let these Herods mingle blood with their sacrifices. It is 
needed. We have been so long servient that the spirit of free- 
dom must be roused by violence. It is not fit that the land 
of the Pilgrims should bear the shame longer ! By the duty 
we owe to justice and liberty throughout the world, by the 
natural pride of men, by the cultivated honor of gentlemen, it 
is not fit that we bear the shame longer ! e. H. Dana, Jr. 



ccxxxrv. 

TEE EDUCATION OF THE WAR. 

/~\VER and above the ordinary and universal means of intel- 
^-^ lectual development, the Divine Providence, now and then, 
prepares extraordinary means to the same end, in those social 
convulsions and calamities that shake whole nations with the 
mighty upheavals of thought and passion. A war of secession 
and disintegration is upon us. The nation's integrity and its 
very life are at stake. It is an epoch that the most sluggish 
minds cannot sleep through. They who never thought before 
must think now. They who never felt before must feel now. 
The intellect of the nation is aroused in the presence of this 
immense issue. It is an educational epoch. Its perils, trials, 
sacrifices, are the school-discipline of God. The mind of the 
people grows up whole cubits of stature in a short time. The 
heart of the people is moved to its deepest depths, — of all 
classes, but most of the most numerous and the governing class, 
the agricultural. And the heart is always the head's best ally. 
Deep feeling begets strong thinking. Sentiments of patriotism 
and loyalty, newborn and fervid, awaken and reinforce the intel- 
lect, raise up character, enlarge the whole man. And this reviv- 
ing and reinvigorating influence will not pass away with the 
trials that produced it. When God educates, it is not for a day, 
but for generations. When He quickens a new life in the soul 



388 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

of a people, it is a life that lasts. When He touches the human 
harp with His own mighty, but tender hand, the sound remains 
in the strings for an age, and for ages. 

Long after this war shall have closed, and its distresses passed 
away, its moral and intellectual compensations will remain. 
Every village will have its war-worn veterans to tell the story 
of Antietam, and Gettysburg, and Port Hudson, and many 
another field of daring achievement. Almost every farm-house 
in the land will have its sacred and inspiring memories of a 
father, son. or brother, who fought for his country, whom they, 
and their posterity after them, must henceforth love and take 
thought for as their very mother. 

And every village graveyard will have its green mounds, that 
shall need no storied monuments to clothe them with a peculiar 
consecration, — graves that hold the dust of heroes, — graves 
that all men approach with reverent steps, — graves out of whose 
solemn silence shall whisper inspiring voices, telling the young 
from generation to generation, how great is their country's worth 
and cost, and how beautiful and noble it was to die for it. 

G. Putnam. 



CCLXXV. 
WASHINGTON'S BIRTHDAY, FEBRUARY 22, 1864. 

~|\/r E AN WHILE, the military signs of the hour are auspi- 
cious. Already we seem to see the dawn breaking in the 
horizon. In these latter months, we have heard it from all loyal 
tongues, and seen it in all loyal faces — the confident hope that 
the day of triumph and peace is ready to break and shine on 
into noonday fulness. 

The nation's banner, torn and soiled in battle, but with every 
star and stripe kept whole and radiant in its fair expanse, shall 
be brought back to the Capitol ; and it may well be that he, the 
illustrious civic leader, who first flung it to the breeze in the 
nation's necessity, should be the man whose hands shall be privi- 
leged to furl it again in Peace, — he, who sits worthily in the 
chair that once held Washington ; he, so honest and pure in his 
great function, so wise and prudent, so faithful and firm ; — God 



RECENT SELECTIONS. 389 

bless and preserve Abraham Lincoln, President of the United 
States ! 

Therefore, if it be in our hearts this day, bending at the shrine 
of Washington, to renew our vow to preserve the country which 
he gave us for a sacred inheritance, we can do it with good hope. 
And verily we must vow, and keep the vow, cost what it may of 
time or wealth or blood, — for his sake, and our own, and our 
children's, and humanity's sake, we must. 

It is true, there is no perpetuity for national existence, or for 
individual influence or renown. Earthly empires must decay at 
last, and with them the vital presence, the living influence of 
their founders and fathers. 

This magnificent polity — his, ours — must, doubtless, one day, 
share the common fate, and when it goes down, the star of Wash- 
ington must set with it, and his name pass, an unheeded word, 
into the dead annals of the obsolete ages. But O ! not yet — 
say it, Americans ! — not now ! 

The laurel chaplet must not be torn from his brow while it is 
still so fresh and green, and not yet fully wreathed. His statues 
must not be pushed from their pedestals to be crumbled into com- 
mon earth, until the centuries have had time to hallow them with 
their venerable stains. 

This fair palace of national freedom, of which he was the 
master-builder, must not crumble into ruin, till it shall have 
given a shelter and a home, security, glory, and peace, to the 
children's children, and the remote posterity of those for whom 
he reared it with the loving ardor of his great soul and the 
strength of his mighty arm. 

It must not, need not, shall not be. To think of it for a 
moment is base recreancy and intolerable shame. Forbid it, thou 
God of nations, and our father's God ! Forbid it, ye, my coun- 
trymen, as ye have the power — ay, ten times the power that 
is requisite. Only rise up again, and yet again, in your strength, 
and by all that is dear and sacred in the name and fame of your 
country's Father, swear that it shall not be, and then it cannot 
be. Give anew your heart and soul and faith, unswerving fidel- 
ity, whole-hearted loyalty — your voice, your strength, your 
wealth — all that you are or possess, to this great cause, — give 
these unitedly, fervently, with one shout, one blow, and in per- 



390 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

feet accord, and then it will not be. Then the mad enterprise 
of rebellion is crushed, and the fiend goes howling back, baffled, 
to his place. Then your birthright is rescued from the destroyer. 
And when this anniversary shall return, next year, or the next, 
yonder marble form in our Capitol shall exchange the look of 
majestic sorrow which seems to have gathered over it, for a smile 
of grateful joy ; and those lips of stone shall move and grow 
fervid with words of exultant and benedictory congratulation. 

Forth, then, friends and compatriots, to the work that shall 
save the storm-tossed ark of our liberties and our hopes. 

G. Putnam, 



CCLXXVI. 
OUR HEROIC DEAD. 

r INHERE is a history in almost every home of Massachusetts, 
-^ which will never be written ; but the memory of kindred 
has it embalmed forever. The representatives of the pride and 
hope of uncounted households, departing, will return no more. 
The shaft of the archer, attracted by the shining mark, numbers 
them among his fallen. In the battles of Big Bethel, of Bull 
Run, of Ball's Bluff, of Roanoke Island, of Newbern, of Win- 
chester, of Yorktown, of Williamsburg, of West Point, of Fair 
Oaks, the battles before Richmond from Mechanicsville to Mal- 
vern Hill, of James Island, of Baton Rouge, of Cedar Moun- 
tain, of Bull Run again, of Chantilly, of Washington in North 
Carolina, of South Mountain, of Antietam, of Fredericksburg, 
of Goldsborough, — through all the capricious fortunes of the 
war, the regiments of Massachusetts have borne her nag by the 
side of the banner of the Union. And, beyond the Atlantic 
slope, every battle-field has drunk the blood of her sons, nur- 
tured among her hills and sands, from which in adventurous 
manhood they turned their footsteps to the West. Officers and 
enlisted men have vied with each other in deeds of valor. This 
flag, whose standard-bearer, shot down in battle, tossed it from 
his dying hand nerved by undying patriotism, has been caught 
by the comrade, who in his turn has closed his eyes for the last 
time upon its starry folds as another hero-martyr clasped the 



RECENT SELECTIONS. 391 

splintered staff and rescued the symbol at once of country and 
of their blood-bought fame. 

How can fleeting words of human praise gild the record of 
their glory ? Our eyes suffused with tears, and blood retreating 
to the heart, stirred with unwonted thrill, speak with the elo- 
quence of nature, uttered but unexpressed. From the din of 
the battle, they have passed to the peace of eternity. Farewell ! 
warrior, citizen, patriot, lover, friend, — whether in the humbler 
ranks or bearing the sword of official power, whether private, 
captain, surgeon, or chaplain, for all these in the heady fight 
have passed away, — Hail ! and Farewell ! Each hero must 
sleep serenely on the field where he fell in a cause " sacred to 
liberty and the rights of mankind." 

" Worn by no wasting, lingering pain, 
No cold gradations of decay, 
Death broke at once the vital chain, 

And freed his soul the nearest way." J. A. Andrew. 



ccLXXvn. 
HONOR TO OUR HEROES. 
rTIHE heart swells with unwonted emotion when we remember 
our sons and brothers, whose constant valor has sustained 
on the field, during nearly three years of war, the cause of our 
country, of civilization, and liberty. Our volunteers have repre- 
sented Massachusetts, during the year just ended, on almost 
every field and in every department of the army where our flag 
has been unfurled. At Chancellorsville, Gettysburg, Vicksburg, 
Port Hudson, and Fort Wagner, at Chickamauga, Knoxville, 
and Chattanooga, — under Hooker, and Meade, and Banks, and 
Gillmore, and Rosecrans, Burnside, and Grant ; in every scene 
of danger and of duty, along the Atlantic and the Gulf, on the 
Tennessee, the Cumberland, the Mississippi and the Rio Grande, 
— under Dupont and Dahlgren, and Foote, and Farragut and 
Porter, — the sons of Massachusetts have borne their part, and 
paid the debt of patriotism and valor. Ubiquitous as the stock 
they descend from, national in their opinions and universal in 
their sympathies, they have fought shoulder to shoulder with 
men of all sections and of every extraction. On the ocean, on 



392 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

the rivers, on the land, on the heights where they thundered 
down from the clouds of Lookout Mountain the defiance of the 
skies, they have graven with their swords a record imperishable. 

The Muse herself demands the lapse of silent years to soften, 
by the influences of Time, her too keen and poignant realization 
of the scenes of War — the pathos, the heroism, the fierce joy, 
the grief, of battle. But, during the ages to come, she will 
brood over their memory. Into the hearts of her consecrated 
priests will breathe the inspirations of lofty and undying Beauty, 
Sublimity and Truth, in all the glowing forms of speech, of lit- 
erature and plastic art. By the homely traditions of the fire- 
side — by the head-stones in the church-yard consecrated to 
those whose forms repose far off in rude graves by the Rappa- 
hannock, or sleep beneath the sea, — embalmed in the memo- 
ries of succeeding generations of parents and children, the heroic 
dead will live on in immortal youth. By their names, their 
character, their service, their .fate, their glory, they cannot 
fail: — 

" They never fail who die 

In a great cause ; the block may soak their gore ; 

Their heads may sodden in the sun, their limbs 

Be strung to city gates and castle walls ; 

But still their spirit walks abroad. Though years 

Elapse and others share as dark a doom, 

They but augment the deep and sweeping thoughts 

Which overpower all others, and conduct 

The world at last to Freedom." 

The edict of Nantes maintaining the religious liberty of the 
Huguenots gave lustre to the fame of Henry the Great, whose 
name will gild the pages of philosophic history after mankind 
may have forgotten the martial prowess and the white plume of 
Navarre. The great Proclamation of Liberty will lift 
the Ruler who uttered it, our Nation and our Age, above all 
vulgar destiny. 

The bell which rang out the Declaration of Independence, has 
found at last a voice articulate, to " Proclaim Liberty through- 
out all the Land unto all the Inhabitants thereof." It has been 
heard across oceans, and has modified the sentiments of cabinets 
and kings. The people of the Old World have heard it, and their 



RECENT SELECTIONS. 393 

hearts stop to catch the last whisper of its echoes. The poor 
slave has heard it, and with bounding joy, tempered by the mys- 
tery of religion, he worships and adores. The waiting Continent 
has heard it, and already foresees the fulfilled prophecy, when 
she will sit "redeemed, regenerated, and disenthralled by the 
irresistible Genius of Universal Emancipation." 

/. A. Andrew. 



CCLXXVIII. 
TEE SIGNIFICANCE OF THE CONTEST. 

f HOLD this armed contest to be a great historical movement, 
and to have high moral interest and significance, because it 
is to determine the character of the institutions under which we, 
and those who come after us, are to live. You are not merely 
sustaining the administration of President Lincoln against unlaw- 
ful combinations, but you are fighting on the side of law, order, 
government, civilization and progress. The result of this war is 
to settle the question whether they who are hereafter to inhabit 
this magnificent country are or are not to have that primal bless- 
ing of a good government, without which the most abundant ma- 
terial resources are as valueless as scientific books or philosophi- 
cal instruments would be among the most barbarous tribes of 
Africa or Australia. Surely there cannot be imagined a war 
more worthy of calling forth all the energies of a great people 
than this. 

And if I am a>ked to define my meaning more distinctly and 
precisely, I say that the questions now submitted to the stern 
arbitrament of war are substantially these : Is the Constitution 
of the United States a compact or a law ? Is this Union a Com- 
monwealth, a State, or is it merely a confederacy or a copartner- 
ship ? Is there a right of secession in the separate States, singly 
or collectively, other than the right of revolution ? These are 
momentous questions, and if they can be settled in no other way 
than by a war, then such a war is worth the price it costs, great 
as that is. For if the right of secession be fairly and logically 
deducible from the Constitution — if any State, upon its own 
mere motion, with cause or without cause, can withdraw from the 
Union as a partner may dissolve a copartnership — then the 



394 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

Constitution itself is a stupendous failure, the men who made it 
were bungling journeymen and not master-mechanics, and the 
institutions of our country, so far from deserving our gratitude 
and admiration, are worthy only of our contempt. The hour has 
come, and the men have come, to settle these issues, fraught with 
such vital consequences to unborn millions. The dusky clouds, 
surcharged with electric fires, that stand front to front in mid air, 
and darken the heavens with their power, have been long in 
gathering ; let the storm continue till the air is cleared — and no 
longer. 

I want to have it now determined that for all future time any 
State, or any cluster of States, that may attempt to coerce or 
bully a legal and constitutional majority by the threat of seces- 
sion, shall be met with the answer : " You don't go out of this 
Union unless you are strong enough to fight your way out." I 
want to have the armed heel of the country crush the serpent 
head of secession, now and forever, so that it shall never again 
glare with its baleful eyes, or brandish its venomous tongue. 
Let not the fate and fortunes of this glorious country be com- 
mitted to the keeping of a clumsy, misshapen raft, compacted of 
twenty-four or thirty-four logs, good enough to float down a 
river, but sure to go to pieces when it gets into deep water; but 
let them be embarked on board a goodly ship, well found, well 
fastened, well manned — in which every timber and plank has 
been so fashioned as to contribute to the beauty and strength of 
the whole fabric, with a good seaman at the helm, the Constitu- 
tion in the binnacle, and the stars and stripes at the masthead. 
When the time of my departure shall come, let me feel, let me 
know, that I leave those whom I love under the protection of a 
government good enough to secure the affection of its subjects, 
and strong enough to enforce their obedience. Remember that 
if a strong government be sometimes bad, a weak government 

is never good. G. S. Hillard. 

■♦ 

CCLXXIX. 
TEE MILITARY CAPACITY OF TEE PEOPLE. 

\T7"E have cause for gratitude in the military capacity which 
our people have developed. We had no great standing 



RECENT SELECTIONS. 395 

armies. We bad but a single thoroughly furnished military 
school. There was no military profession proper, inviting young 
men on the threshold of life to choose the trade of arms. A 
soldier's garb was a rare spectacle, and every child ran to the 
window to gaze at the passing glitter. Whence should come 
our fighting men if the bugle should blow ? You must have 
men before you have soldiers. Our institutions raised men. 
Proverbially the Yankee can turn his hand to anything. He 
likes to do well what he undertakes. He has a pride in showing 
himself equal to his position. Above all, he has force of personal 
character. When a Northern regiment makes a charge, it is not 
merely the weight of so much physical humanity ; there goes 
weight of character with it. Why, there is an accomplished 
schoolmaster there, and the best blacksmith of the village, and a 
solid merchant, and a dexterous lawyer, and the handiest coach- 
man of the stable, and a well known stage-driver on a prominent 
public route, and a butcher, with an unerring cleaver, and a jolly 
tar whose vessel never missed stays with his hand at the wheel ; 
do you suppose that these men are going to charge like so many 
nameless Hessians ? Why, it is a personal matter with every 
one of them. They go in under orders, to be sure, but they have 
not lost the sense of individual responsibility. The thing is to 
be well done because they are there. I know it, my friends, the 
personal character of our recruits lends weight and irresistible- 
ness to them as soldiers. 

There have been no braver men, no stouter soldiers, in all 
war's red annals, than these armed clerks, farmers, college boys, 
and their comrades of every peaceful calling. Each community 
keeps the name of some young hero, nobler than Spartan mothers 
ever, welcomed on his shield. Redder blood never stained the 
earth, than those full libations our new mustered ranks have 
poured out for union, law, and liberty. There has been no 
fighting in the bloody past of human story, where muzzle to 
muzzle and steel to steel, bold hearts have more truly played the 
man, than in those battles of two years past in which our citizen 
armies have saved our nationality. Never have the hardships 
of the camp, the march, the field, and the trenches, and the mer- 
ciless privations of imprisonment been more heroically endured. 
It was not needed — and our President said it well — to conse- 



396 THE UMON SPEAKER. 

crate the sacred acres of Gettysburg ; that was already done by 
the deep baptism that had laved those hills, and not that field 
only, but all the sands and sods and waves our boys' brave blood 
have crimsoned. No land beneath the blue heavens was ever 
kept by stouter living bulwarks ; no mourners ever had a nobler 
heritage than those that mourn our soldier-dead. a. L. Stone. 



CCLXXX. 
LIMIT TO HUMAN DOMINION. 

(~^ OD has given the land to man, but the sea He has reserved 
^-^ to Himself. " The sea is His, and He made it." He has 
given man " no inheritance in it ; no, not so much as to set his 
foot on." If he enters its domain, he enters it as a pilgrim and 
a stranger. He may pass over it, but he can have no abiding 
place upon it. He cannot build his house, nor so much as pitch 
his tent within it. He cannot mark it with his lines, nor subdue 
it to his uses, nor rear his monuments upon it. It steadfastly 
refuses to own him as its lord and master. Its depths do not 
tremble at his coming. Its waters do not flee when he appear- 
eth. All the strength of all his generations is to it as a feather 
before the whirlwind; and all the noise of his commerce, and 
all the thunder of his navies, it can hush in a moment within the 
silence of its impenetrable abysses. Whole armies have gone 
down into that unfathomable darkness, and not a floating bubble 
marks the place of their disappearing. If all the populations of 
the world, from the beginning of time, were cast into its depths, 
the smooth surface of its oblivion would close over them in an 
hour ; and if all the cities of the earth, and all the structures 
and monuments ever reared by man, were heaped together over 
that grave for a tombstone, it would not break the surface of the 
deep, or lift back their memory to the light of the sun and the 
breath of the upper air. The sea would roll its billows in de- 
rision, a thousand fathoms deep, above the topmost stone of that 
mighty sepulchre. The patient earth submits to the rule of 
man, and the mountains bow their rocky heads before the ham- 
mer of his power and the blast of his terrible enginery. The 



RECENT SELECTIONS. 397 

sea cares not for him ; not so much as a single hair's breadth can 
its level be lowered or lifted by all the art, and all the effort, and 
all the enginery of all the generations of time. He comes and 
goes upon it, and a moment after it is as if he had never been 
there. He may engrave his titles upon the mountain top, and 
quarry his signature into the foundations of the globe, but he 
cannot write his name on the sea. And thus, by its material 
uses and its spiritual voices, does the sea ever speak to us, to tell 
us that its builder and maker is God. He hewed its channels 
in the deep, and drew its barriers upon the sand, and cast its 
belted waters around the world. lie fitted it to the earth and 
the sky, and poised them skilfully, the one against the other, 
when He " measured the waters in the hollow of His hand, and 
meted out heaven with the span, and comprehended the dust of 
the earth in a measure, and weighed the mountains in scales, and 
the hills in a balance." He gave the sea its wonderful laws, and 
armed it with its wonderful powers, and set it upon its wonderful 
work. 

" O'er all its breadth His wisdom walks, 
On all its waves His goodness shines." L. Swain. 



CCLXXXI. 
THE BATTLE OF CIVILIZATIONS. 

/^VUR war is only an appeal from the nineteenth century of 
^-^ freedom and ballots to the system of the sixteenth century. 
The old conflict, — a new weapon, that is all. The South 
thought because once, twice, thrice, the spaniel North had gotten 
down on her knees, that this time, also, poisoned by cotton-dust, 
she would kiss her feet. But instead of that, for the first time 
in our history, the North has flung the insult back, and said : 
" By the Almighty, the Mississippi is mine, and I will have it." 
Now, when shall come peace ? Out of this warlike conflict, 
when shall come peace ? Just as it came in the conflict of par- 
ties and discussion. Whenever one civilization gets the upper- 
most positively, then there will be peace, and never till then. 

There is no new thing under the sun. The light shed upon 
our future is the light of experience. Seventy years have not 



398 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

left us ignorant of what the aristocracy of the South means and 
plans. The South needs to rule, or she goes by the board. 
She is a wise power. I respect her for it. She knows that she 
needs to rule. What does Mr. Jefferson Davis plan ? Do you 
suppose he plans for an imaginary line to divide South Caro- 
lina from New York and Massachusetts ? What good would 
that do ? An imaginary line would not shut out ideas. But she 
must bar out those ideas. That is the programme in the South. 
He imagines he can broaden his base by allying himself to a 
weaker race. He says : " I will join marriage with the weak 
races o£ Mexico and the Southwest, and then, perhaps, I can 
draw to my side the Northwest, with its interests as an agricul- 
tural population, naturally allied to me, and not to the North- 
east, with its tariff set of States." And he thinks thus, a strong, 
quiet, slaveholding empire, he will bar New England and New 
York out in the cold, and will have comparative peace. 

But if he bar New England out in the cold, what then ? She 
is still there. And give it only the fulcrum of Plymouth Rock, 
an idea will upheave the continent. Now, Davis knows that 
better than we do, — a great deal better. His plan, therefore, 
is to mould an empire so strong, so broad, that it can control 
New England and New York. He is not only to found a slave- 
holding despotism, but he is to make it so strong that, by traitors 
amon<r us, and hemming us in by power, he is to cripple, confine, 
break down, the free discussion of these Northern States. Un- 
less he does that, he is not safe. He knows it. Now I do not 
say he will succeed, but I tell you what I think is the plan of a 
statesmanlike leader of this effort. To make slavery safe, he 
must mould Massachusetts, not into being a slaveholding Com- 
monwealth, but into being a silent, unprotesting Commonwealth ; 
that Maryland and Virginia, the Carolinas, and Arkansas, may 
be quiet, peaceable populations. He is a wise man. He knows 
what he wants, and he wants it with a will, like Julius Caesar of 
old. He has gathered every dollar and every missi'e south of 
Mason and Dixon's line to hurl a thunderbolt that shall serve 
his purpose. And if he does achieve a separate confederacy, 
and shall be able to bribe the West into neutrality, much less 
alliance, a dangerous time, and a terrible battle, will these East- 
ern States have. For they will never make peace. The Yankee 



RECENT SELECTIONS. 399 

n'ho comes out of Cromwell's bosom will fight his Naseby a hun- 
dred years, if it last so long, but he will conquer. In other 
words, Davis will try to rule. If he conquers, he is to bring, in 
his phrase, Carolina to Massachusetts. And if we conquer, what 
is our policy ? To carry Massachusetts to Carolina. In other 
words, carry Northern civilization all over the South. It is a 
contest between civilizations. Which ever conquers supersedes 

the other. w. Phillips. 

♦ 

cclxxxii. 
SECESSION THE DEATH OF SLAVERY. 

O EVERED from us, South Carolina must have a government. 
*^ You see now a reign of terror, — threats to raise means. 
That can only last a day. Some system must give a support to 
a government. It is an expensive luxury. You must lay taxes 
to support it. Where will you levy your taxes? They must 
rest on productions. Productions are the result of skilled labor. 
You must educate your laborer, if you would have the means 
for carrying on a government. Despotisms are cheap ; free gov- 
ernments are a dear luxury, — the machinery is complicated and 
expensive. If the South wants a theoretical republic, she must 
pay for it, — she must have a basis for taxation. How will she 
pay for it? Why, Massachusetts, with a million workmen, — 
men, women, and children, — the little feet that can just toddle 
bringing chips from the wood-pile, — Massachusetts only pays 
her own board and lodging, and lays by about four per cent, a 
year. And South Carolina, with one half idlers, and the other 
half slaves, — a slave doing only half the work of a freeman, — 
only one quarter of the population actually at work, — how 
much do you suppose she lays up ? Lays up a loss ! By all 
the laws of political economy, she lays up bankruptcy ; of course 
she does ! Put her out, and let her see how sheltered she has 
been from the laws of trade by the Union ! The free labor of 
the North pays her plantation patrol ; we pay for her govern- 
ment, we pay for her postage, and for everything else. Launch 
her out, and let her see if she can make the year's ends meet ! 
And when she tries, she must educate her labor in order to get 
the basis for taxation. Educate slaves ! Make a locomotive 



400 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

with its furnaces of open wirework, fill them with anthracite 
coal and when you have raised it to a white heat, mount and 
drive it through a powder magazine, and you are safe, compared 
with a slaveholding community educating its slaves. But South 
Carolina must do it, in order to get the basis for taxation to sup- 
port an independent government. The moment she does it, she 
removes the safeguard of slavery. 

What is the contest in Virginia now ? Between the men who 
want to make their slaves mechanics, for the increased wages it 
will secure, and the men who oppose, for fear of the influence it 
will have on the general security of slave property and white 
throats. Just that dispute will go on, wherever the Union is 
dissolved. Slavery comes to an end by the laws of trade. Hanor 
up your Sharpe's rifle, my valorous friend ! The slave does not 
ask the help of your musket. He only says, like old Diogenes 
to Alexander, " Stand out of my light ! " Just take your awk- 
ward proportions, you Yankee Democrat and Republican, out of 
the light and heat of God's laws of political economy, and they 
will melt the slaves' chains away ! w. Phillips. 



ccLXXxm. 
THE COMMENCEMENT OF THE ANTI-SLAVERY MOVEMENT. 

IVTO matter where you meet a dozen earnest men pledged to a 
•^ " new idea, — wherever you have met them, you have met 
the beginning of a revolution. Revolutions are not made : they 
come. A revolution is as natural a gro.wth as an oak. It comes 
out of the past. Its foundations are laid far back. The child 
feels ; he grows into a man, and thinks ; another, perhaps, speaks, 
and the world acts out the thought. And this is the history of 
modern society. Men undervalue the Anti-slavery movement, 
because they imagine you can always put your finger on some 
illustrious moment in history, and say, here commenced the great 
change which has come over the nation. Not so. The begin- 
ning of great changes is like the rise of the Mississippi. A child 
must stoop and gather away the pebbles to find it. But soon it 
swells broader and broader, bears on its ample bosom the navies 
of a mighty republic, fills the Gulf, and divides a continent. 



RECENT SELECTIONS. 401 

I remember a story of Napoleon which illustrates my mean- 
ing. We are apt to trace his control of France to some noted 
victory, to the time when he camped in the Tuileries, or when 
he dissolved the Assembly by the stamp of his foot. He reigned 
in fact when his hand was first felt on the helm of the vessel of 
state, and that was far back of the time when he had conquered 
in Italy, or his name had been echoed over two continents. It 
was on the day when five hundred irresolute men were met in 
that Assembly which called itself, and pretended to be, the gov- 
ernment of France. They heard that the mob of Paris was 
coming the next morning, thirty thousand strong, to turn them, 
as was usual in those days, out of doors. And where did this 
seemingly great power go for its support and refuge ? They 
sent Tallien to seek out a boy-lieutenant, — the shadow of an 
officer, — so thin and pallid that, when he was placed on the 
stand before them, the President of the Assembly, fearful, if the 
fate of France rested on the shrunken form, the ashy cheek 
before him, that all hope was gone, asked, " Young man, can you 
protect the Assembly ? " And the stern lips of the Corsican 
boy parted only to reply, " I always do what I undertake ! " 
Then and there Napoleon ascended his throne ; and the next 
day, from the steps of St. Roche, thundered forth the cannon 
which taught the mob of Paris, for the first time, that it had 
a master. That was the commencement of the Empire. So 
the Anti-slavery movement commenced unheeded in that " ob- 
scure hole " which Mayor Otis could not find, occupied by a 
printer and a black boy. w. Phillips. 



CCLXXXIV. 

" TOUCH NOT SLAVERY:' 

"1XTHAT ! you the descendants of those men of iron who pre- 
ferred a life-or-death struggle with misery on the bleak 
and wintry coast of New England to submission to priestcraft 
and kingcraft ; you, the offspring of those hardy pioneers who 
set their faces against all the dangers and difficulties that sur- 
round the early settler's life ; you, who subdued the forces of 
wild nature, cleared away the primeval fore.-t, covered the end- 



402 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

less prairie with human habitations ; you, this race of bold 
reformers who blended together the most incongruous elements 
of birth and creed, who built up a government which you called 
a model republic, and undertook to show mankind how to be 
free ; you, the mighty nation of the West, that presumes to defy 
the world in arms, and to subject a hemisphere to its sovereign 
dictation ; you, who boast of recoiling from no enterprise ever so 
great, and no problem ever so fearful — the spectral monster of 
Slavery stares you in the face, and now your blood runs cold, 
and all your courage fails you ? For half a century it has 
disturbed the peace of this Republic ; it has arrogated to itself 
your national domain ; it has attempted to establish its absolute 
rule, and to absorb even your future development ; it has dis- 
graced you in the eyes of mankind, and now it endeavors to ruin 
you if it cannot rule you ; it raises its murderous hand against 
the institutions most dear to you ; it attempts to draw the power- 
of foreign nations upon your heads ; it swallows up the treas- 
ures you have earned by long years of labor ; it drinks the 
blood of your sons and the tears of your wives — and now, 
every day it is whispered in your ears, " Whatever Slavery may 
have done to you, whatever you may suffer, touch it not ! No 
matter how many thousand millions of your wealth it may 
cost, no matter how much blood you may have to shed in order 
to disarm its murderous hand, touch it not ! No matter how f 
many years of peace and prosperity you may have to sacrifice in 
order to prolong its existence, touch it not ! And if it should 
cost you your honor, touch it not ! " 

Listen to this story : On the Lower Potomac, as the papers 
tell us, a negro comes within our lines, and tells the valiant de- 
fenders of the Union that his master conspires with the rebels, 
and has a quantity of arms concealed in a swamp ; our soldiers 
go and find the arms ; the master reclaims the slave ; the slave 
is given up ; the master ties him to his horse, drags him along 
eleven miles to his house, lashes him to a tree, and, with the as- 
sistance of his overseer, whips him three hours — three mortal 
hours ; then the negro dies. That black man served the Union ; 
Slavery attempts to destroy the Union ; the Union surrenders the 
black man to Slavery, and he is whipped to death — touch it not ! 
Let an imperishable blush of shame cover every cheek in this 



RECENT SELECTIONS. 403 

toasted land of freedom — but be careful not to touch Slavery ! 
Ah, what a dark divinity is this, that we must sacrifice to it our 
peace, our prosperity, our blood, our future, our honor ! What 
an insatiable vampire is this that drinks out the very marrow 
of our manliness ! Pardon me ; this sounds like a dark dream, 
like the offspring of a hypochondriac imagination ; and yet — 
have I been unjust in what I have said ? Carl Schurz. 



CCLXXXV. 
OHIO. 



/^HIO rises before the world as the majestic witness to the 
^-^ beneficent reality of the democratic principle. A common- 
wealth younger in years than he who addresses you, not long 
ago having no visible existence but in the emigrant wagons, now 
numbers almost as large a population as that of all England 
when it gave birth to Raleigh, and Bacon, and Shakspeare, and 
began its continuous attempts at colonizing America. Each one 
of her inhabitants gladdens in the fruit of his own toil. She 
possesses wealth that must be computed by thousands of millions ; 
and her frugal, industrious and benevolent people, at once dar- 
ing and prudent, unfettered in the use of their faculties, restless 
in enterprise, do not squander the accumulations of their indus- 
try in vain show, but ever go on to render the earth more 
productive, more beautiful, and more convenient to man ; mas- 
tering for mechanical purposes the unwasting forces of nature ; 
keeping exemplary good faith with their public creditors ; build- 
ing in half a century more churches than all England has raised 
since this' continent was discovered ; endowing and sustaining: 
universities and other seminaries of learning. Conscious of the 
dynamic power of mind in action as the best of fortresses, Ohio 
keeps no standing army but that of her school-teachers, of whom 
she pays more than twenty thousand ; she provides a library for 
every school-district ; she counts among her citizens more than 
three hundred thousand men who can bear arms, and she has 
more than twice that number of children registered as students 
'j in her public schools. Here the purity of domestic morals is 
ji maintained by the virtue and dignity of woman. In the heart 



404 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

of the temperate zone of this continent, in the land of corn, of 
wheat, and the vine, the eldest daughter of the Ordinance of 
1787, already the young mother of other commonwealths that 
bid fair to vie with her in beauty, rises in her loveliness and 
glory, crowned with cities, and challenges the admiration of the 
world. Hither should come the political skeptic, who, in his 
despair, is ready to strand the ship of state ; for here he may 
learn how to guide it safely on the waters. Should some mod- 
ern Telemachus, heir to an island empire, touch these shores, 
here he may observe the vitality and strength of the principle 
of popular power ; take from the book of experience the lesson 
that in public affairs great and happy results follow in propor- 
tion to faith in the efficacy of that principle, and learn to rebuke 
ill-advised counsellors who pronounce the most momentous and 
most certain of political truths a delusion and a failure. 

G. Bancroft. 



CCLXXXVI. 
THE CONTROVERSY BETWEEN THE NORTH AND SOUTH. 

TT is exceedingly desirable that all parts of this great Con- 
federacy shall be at peace, and in harmony, one with another. 
Let us do our part to have it so. Even though much pro- 
voked, let us do nothing through passion and ill temper. Even 
though the Southern people will not so much as listen to us, let us 
calmly consider their demands, and yield to them if, in our de- 
liberate view of our duty, we possibly can. The question is, 
What will satisfy them ? Simply this : We must not only let 
them alone, but we must, somehow, convince them that we do let 
them alone. This, we know by experience, is no easy task. We 
have been trying to convince them from the very beginning of 
our organization, but with no success. In all our platforms and 
speeches we have constantly protested our purpose to let them 
alone ; but this has had no tendency to convince them. What 
will convince them ? This, and this only : cease to call slavery 
wrong, and join them in calling it right. And this must be done 
thoroughly — done in acts as well as in words. Silence will not 
be tolerated — we must place ourselves avowedly with them. 
Senator Douglas's new sedition law must be enacted and enforced, 



RECENT SELECTIONS. 405 

suppressing all declarations that slavery is wrong, whether made 
in politics, in presses, in pulpits or in private. We must arrest 
and return their fugitive slaves with greedy pleasure. We must 
pull down our Free State constitutions. The whole atmosphere 
must be disinfected from all taint of opposition to slavery, before 
they will cease to believe that all their troubles proceed from us. 

I am quite aware they do not state their case precisely in this 
way. Most of them would probably say to us : " Let us alone, 
do nothing to us, and say what you please about slavery." But 
we do let them alone — have never disturbed them — so that, 
after all, it is what we say, which dissatisfies them. They will 
continue to accuse us of doing, until we cease saying. 

Nor can we justifiably withhold this, on any ground save our 
conviction that slavery is wrong. If slavery is right, all words, 
acts, laws, and constitutions against it, are themselves wrong, 
and should be silenced, and swept away. If it is right, we can- 
not justly object to its nationality — its universality ; if it is 
wrong, they cannot justly insist upon its extension — its enlarge- 
ment. All they ask, we could readily grant, if we thought 
slavery right ; all we ask, they could as readily grant, if they 
thought it wrong. Their thinking it right and our thinking it 
wrong, is the precise fact upon which depends the whole contro- 
versy. Thinking it right, as they do, they are not to blame for 
desiring its full recognition, as being right ; but, thinking it 
wrong, as we do, can we yield to them ? Can we cast our votes 
with their view, and against our own ? In view of our moral, 
social, and political responsibilities, can we do this ? 

Wrong as we think slavery is, we can yet afford to let it alone 
where it is, because that much is due to the necessity arising 
from its actual presence in the nation ; but can we, while our 
votes will prevent it, allow it to spread into the National Terri- 
tories, and to overrun us here in these Free States ? If our 
sense of duty forbids this, then let us stand by our duty, fear- 
lessly and effectively. 

Neither let us be slandered from our duty by false accu- 
sations against us, nor frightened from it by menaces either of 
destruction to the government or of dungeons to ourselves. Let 

US HAVE FAITH THAT RIGHT MAKES MIGHT, AND IN THAT 
FAITH, LET US, TO THE END DARE TO DO OUR DUTY AS WE 
UNDERSTAND IT. A. Lincoln. 



406 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

CCLXXXVII. 
TEE PRETEXT OF REBELLION. 

TF war must come — if the bayonet must be used to maintain 
- 1 - the Constitution — I can say, before God, my conscience is 
clear. I have struggled long for a peaceful solution of the diffi- 
culty. I have not only tendered those States what was theirs 
of right, but I have gone to the very extreme of magnanimity. 
The return we receive is war, armies marched upon our Capital, 
obstructions and danger to our navigation, letters of marque to 
invite pirates to prey upon our commerce, a concerted move- 
ment to blot out the United States of America from the map of 
the globe. The question is, Are we to be stricken down by those 
who, when they can no longer govern, threaten to destroy ? 
What cause, what excuse do disunionists give us for breaking 
up the best government on which the sun of heaven ever shed 
its rays ? They are dissatisfied with the result of a Presidential 
election. Did they never get beaten before ? Are we to resort 
to the sword when we get defeated at the ballot-box ? I under- 
stand that the voice of the people expressed in the mode ap- 
pointed by the Constitution must command the obedience of 
every citizen. They assume, on the election of a particular 
candidate, that their rights are not safe in the Union. What 
evidence do they present of this ? I defy any man to show any 
act on which it is based. What act has been omitted or been 
done ? I appeal to these assembled thousands, that, so far as 
the constitutional rights of the Southern States — I will say the 
constitutional rights of slaveholders — are concerned, nothing has 
been done, and nothing omitted, of which they can complain. 

There has never been a time, from the day that Washington 
was inaugurated first President of these United States, when the " 
rights of the Southern States stood firmer under the laws of the 
land than they do now ; there never was a time when they had 
not as good a cause for disunion as they have to-day. What 
good cause have they now that has not existed under every 
administration ? If they say the Territorial question — now, for 
the first time, there is no act of Congress prohibiting slavery 
anywhere. If it be the non-enforcement of the laws, the only 



RECENT SELECTIONS. 407 

complaints that I have heard have been of the too vigorous and 
faithful fulfilment of the Fugitive Slave Law. Then what 
reason have they ? The slavery question is a mere excuse. 
The election of Lincoln is a mere pretext. The present seces- 
sion movement is the result of an enormous conspiracy formed 
more than a year since — formed by leaders in the Southern 
Confederacy more than twelve months ago. They use the 
Slavery question as a means to aid the accomplishment of their 
ends. They desired the election of a Northern candidate, by a 
sectional vote, in order to show that the two sections cannot live 
together. When the history "of the two years from the Lecomp- 
ton charter down to the Presidential election shall be written, it 
will be shown that the scheme was deliberately made to break 
up this Union. They desired a Northern Republican to be 
elected by a purely Northern vote, and now assign this fact as a 
reason why the sections may not longer live together. If the 
disunion candidate in the late Presidential contest had carried 
the united South, their scheme was, the Northern candidate suc- 
cessful, to seize the Capital last spring, and, by a united South 
and divided North, hold it. That scheme was defeated in the 
defeat of the disunion candidate in several of the Southern 
States. The conspiracy is now known. Armies have been 
raised, war is levied to accomplish it. There are only two sides 
to the question. Every man must be for the United States or 
against them. There can be no neutrals in this war ; only 
patriots or traitors. s - A - Douglass. 



CCLXXXVIII. 
NO NEUTRALS; ONLY PATRIOTS OR TRAITORS. 

T>UT this is no time for a detail of causes. The conspiracy 
is now known. Armies have been raised, war is levied to 
accomplish it. There are only two sides to the question. Every 
man must be for the United States or against them. There can 
be no neutrals in this war ; only patriots or traitors. We cannot 
close our eyes to the sad and solemn fact that war does exist. 
The government must be maintained, its enemies overthrown ; 
and the more stupendous our preparations the less the bloodshed, 
and the shorter the struggle will be. But we must remember 



408 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

certain restraints on our action even in time of war. We are a 
Christian people, and the war must be prosecuted in a manner 
recognized by Christian nations. We must not invade constitu- 
tional rights. The innocent must not suffer, nor women or chil- 
dren be the victims. Savages must not be let loose. But while 
I sanction no war on the rights of others, I will implore my 
countrymen not to lay down their arms until our own rights are 
recognized. The Constitution and its guarantees are our birth- 
right, and I am ready to enforce that inalienable right to the 
last extent. We cannot recognize secession. Recognize it 
once, and you have not only dissolved government, but you have 
destroyed social order, and upturned the foundations of society. 
You have inaugurated anarchy in its worst form, and will shortly 
experience all the horrors of the French Revolution. 

Then we have a solemn duty> — to maintain the government. 
The greater our unanimity, the speedier the day of peace. We 
have prejudices to overcome from a fierce party contest waged a 
few short months since. Yet these must be allayed. Let us 
lay aside all criminations and recriminations as to the origin of 
these difficulties. When we shall have again a country, with the 
United States flag floating over it, and respected on every inch 
of American soil, — it will then be time enough to ask who and 
what brought all this upon us. I have said more than I intended 
to say. It is a sad task to discuss questions so fearful as civil 
war ; but sad as it is, bloody and disastrous as I expect the war 
will be, I express it as my conviction, before God, that it is the 
duty of every American citizen to rally round the flag of his 

country. S. A. Douglass. 
» 

CCLXXXIX. 

ON THE ORDINANCE OF SECESSION IN THE GEORGIA 

CONVENTION. * 

npHIS step, once taken, can never be recalled ; and all the 
■^ baleful and withering consequences that follow will rest on 
the convention for all coming time. When we and our poster- 
ity shall see our lovely South desolated by the demon of war, 
which this act of yours will inevitably invite and call forth ; when 
your green fields of waving harvests shall be trodden down by 



RECENT SELECTIONS. 409 

the murderous soldiery and the fiery car of war sweeping over 
our land ; our temples of justice laid in ashes ; all the horrors 
and desolation of war upon us, who but this convention will be 
held responsible for it ? and who but him who shall have given 
his vote for this unwise and ill-timed measure shall be held to 
strict account for this suicidal act by the present generation, 
and probably cursed and execrated by posterity for all coming 
time, for the wide and desolating ruin that will inevitably follow 
this act you now propose to perpetrate ? 

Pause, I entreat you, and consider for a moment what reasons 
you can give that will ever satisfy yourselves in calmer mo- 
ments, — what reasons you can give to your fellow-sufferers in 
the calamity that it- will bring upon us ? What reason can you 
give the nations of the earth to justify it ? They will be the 
calm and deliberate judges in the case, and to what cause, or 
one overt act can you point, on which to rest the plea of justi- 
fication ? What right has the North assailed? What interest 
of the South has been invaded ? What justice has been de- 
nied? and what claim founded in justice and right has been 
withheld? Can either of you to-day name one governmental 
act of wrong deliberately and purposely done by the govern- 
ment at Washington of which the South has a right to com- 
plain ? I challenge the answer ! While, on the other hand, let 
me show the facts (and believe me, gentlemen, I am not here 
the advocate of the North, but am here the firm friend and 
lover of the South and her institutions, and for this reason I 
speak thus plainly and faithfully for yours, mine, and every 
other man's interest, the words of truth and soberness,) let me 
show the facts, I say, of which I wish you to judge, and T will 
only state facts which are clear and undeniable, and which now 
stand as records authentic in the history of our country. 

When we of the South demanded the slave-trade, or the im- 
portation of Africans for the cultivation of our lands, did they 
not yield the right for twenty years ? When we asked a three- 
fifths representation in Congress for our slaves, was it not grant- 
ed ? When we asked and demanded the return of any fugitive 
from justice, or the recovery of those persons owing labor or 
allegiance, was it not incorporated in the Constitution ? and again 
Ratified and strengthened in the Fugitive Slave Law of 1850? 



410 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

Do you reply that in many instances they have violated this 
compact, and have not been faithful to their engagements ? As 
individuals and local communities they may have done so ; but 
not by the sanction of government ; for that has always been true 
to Southern interests. 

Leaving out of the view, for the present, the countless millions 
of dollars you must expend in a war with the North, there will be 
thousands and tens of thousands of your sons and brothers slain 
in battle, and offered up as sacrifices upon the altar of ambition, — 
and for what, we ask again ? It is for the overthrow of the 
American government, established by our common ancestry, 
cemented and built up by their sweat and blood, and founded 
on the broad principles of Right, Justice, and Humanity ? And, 
as such, I must declare here, as I have often done before, and 
which has been repeated by the greatest and wisest of statesmen 
and patriots in this and other lands, that it is the best and freest 
government, — the most equal in its rights, — the most just in its 
decisions — the most lenient in its measures, and the most inspir- 
ing in its principles to elevate the race of men, that the sun in 
heaven ever shone upon. 

Now, for you to attempt to overthrow' such a government as 
this, under which we have lived for more than three quarters of 
a century, in which we have gained our wealth, our standing as 
a nation, our domestic safety while the elements of peril are 
around us, with peace and tranquility accompanied with un- 
bounded prosperity and rights unassailed — is the height of mad- 
ness, folly and wickedness, to which I can neither lend my sanc- 
tion nor my vote. a. H Stephens. 



ccxc. 

" THE HIRELING LABORERS" OF THE NORTH. 

HHHE Senator from South Carolina [Mr. Hammond] exclaims : 
" The man who lives by daily labor, your whole hireling class 
of manual laborers, are essentially slaves ; and they feel galled 
by their degradation." What a sentiment is this to hear uttered 
in the councils of this democratic republic ! This language of 
scorn and contempt is addressed to senators who were not nursed* 



RECENT SELECTIONS. 411' 

by a slave ; whose lot it was to toil with their own hands, — to 
eat bread, earned, not by the sweat of another's brow, but by 
their own. 

Sir, should the Senator and his agitators and lecturers come 
to Massachusetts, on a mission to teach our " hireling class of 
manual laborers," our " slaves," the " tremendous secret of the 
ballot-box," and to help "combine and lead them," these stigma- 
tized " hirelings" would reply to the Senator and his associates : 
" We are freemen ; we are the peers of the gifted and the 
wealthy ; w r e know ' the tremendous secret of the ballot-box ; ' 
and we mould and fashion these institutions that bless and adorn 
our free Commonwealth ! These public schools are ours, for the 
education of our children ; these libraries, with their accumu- 
lated treasures, are ours ; these multitudinous and varied pur- 
suits of life, where intelligence and skill find their reward, are 
ours. Labor is here honored and respected, and great examples 
incite us to action. 

"All around us, in the professions, in the marts of commerce, 
on the exchange where merchant princes and capitalists do con- 
gregate, in these manufactories and workshops where the prod- 
ucts of every clime are fashioned into a thousand forms of utility 
and beauty, on these smiling farms fertilized by the sweat of 
free labor, in every position of private and of public life, — are our 
associates, who were but yesterday what you call ' hireling labor- 
ers,' and, therefore, ' essentially slaves ! ' In every department 
of human effort are noble men who sprang from our ranks, — 
men whose good deeds will be felt, and will live in the grate- 
ful memories of men, when the stones reared by the hands of 
affection to their honored names shall crumble into dust. Our 
eyes glisten and our hearts throb over the bright, glowing, and 
radiant pages of our history that record the deeds of patriotism 
of the sons of New England who sprang from our ranks, and 
wore the badges of toil. While the names of Benjamin Franklin, 
Roger Sherman, Nathaniel Greene, and Paul Revere, live on 
the brightest pages of our history, the mechanics of Massachu- 
setts and New England will never want illustrious examples to 
incite us to noble aspirations and noble deeds. 

" Go home, sir, and say to your privileged class, which you 
vauntingly say leads progress, civilization, and refinement, that 



412 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

in the opinion of the ' hireling laborers ' of Massachusetts, if you 

have no sympathy for your African bondmen, you should, at least, 

sympathize with the millions of your own race, whose labor you 

have dishonored and degraded by slavery ! You should teach 

your millions of poor and ignorant white men, so long oppressed 

by your policy, the ' tremendous secret that the ballot-!. ox is 

stronger than an army with banners ! ' You should ' combine ' 

and lead them to the adoption of a policy which shall secure 

their own emancipation from a degrading thraldom ! " 

H. Wilson. 

- <> 



CCXCI. 
THE DEATH OF SLAVERY THE LIFE OF THE NATION. 

\XT'& of America have been accustomed to contemplate, with 
something of gratified and patriotic pride, the wondrous 
progress of our country, and the strength and stability of our 
Government. Gazing with beaming eye and throbbing heart 
upon the grandeur and beauty of this splendid edifice of consti- 
tutional government in America, we came to believe that it was 
as imperishable as the memory of its illustrious builders. We 
dreamed for our native land a glorious destiny — a magnificent 
career among the nations during the coming ages. But our 
firm, confident faith is now shaken — our bright hopes are now 
dimmed — our lofty pride is now humbled — our gorgeous vis- 
ions of the future glories of the Republic are now obscured by 
the storm of battle. Our country, the land of so much of affec- 
tion, of pride and of hope, now presents to the startled and as- 
tonished gaze of mankind an appalling, humiliating, and sadden- 
ing spectacle. Treasonable menaces of other days have now 
ripened into treasonable deeds. Civil war holds its carnival, and 
reaps its bloody harvest. The nation is grappling with a gigan- 
tic conspiracy — straggling for existence — for the preservation 
of its menaced life — against a rebellion that finds no parallel in 
the annals of the world. 

Why is it that the land resounds with the measured tread of a 
million of armed men ? Why is it that our bright waters are 
stained and our green fields reddened with fraternal blood? 
Why is it that the young men of America, in the pride and bloom 
of early manhood, are summoned from homes, from the mothers 



RECENT SELECTIONS. 413 

who bore them, from the wives and sisters who love them, to the 
fields of bloody strife — there to do soldiers' duties, bear soldiers' 
burdens, and fill soldiers' graves ? Why is it that thousands of 
the men and the women of Christian America are sorrowing, with 
aching hearts and tearful eyes, for the absent, the loved, and the 
lost? Why is it that the heart of loyal America throbs, heavily 
oppressed with anxiety and gloom, for the future of the country? 

These crimes against the peace of the country and the life of 
the nation are all, all to eternize the hateful dominion of man 
over the souls and bodies of his fellow-men — to make slavery 
perpetual and its power forever dominant in Christian and Re- 
publican America. These sacrifices of property, of health, of 
life — these appalling sorrows and agonies now upon us, are all 
the inflictions of slavery, in its gigantic effort to found a slave- 
holding empire in America. Yes, slavery is the " architect of 
ruin " who organized this mighty conspiracy against the unity and 
existence of the Republic. Slavery is the traitor that plunged the 
Nation into the fire, and blood, and darkness of civil war. Slavery 
is the criminal whose hands are dripping with the blood of our 
murdered sons. Before the tribunal of mankind, of the present 
and of coming ages — before the bar of the ever-living God — 
the loyal heart of America holds slavery responsible for every 
dollar sacrificed, for every drop of blood shed, for every pang of 
toil, of agony, and of death — for every tear wrung from suffering 
or affection, in this godless rebellion now upon us. For these 
treasonable deeds, these crimes against freedom, humanity, and 
the life of the Nation, slavery should be doomed by the loyal 
people of America to a swift, utter, and ignominious annihila- 
tion. 

Slavery, bold, proud, domineering, with hate in its heart, scorn 
in its eye, defiance in its mien, has pronounced against the exist- 
ence of republican institutions in America, against the suprem- 
acy of the Government, the unity and life of the Nation. Sla- 
very, hating the cherished institutions that tend to secure the 
rights and enlarge the privileges of mankind, despising the toiling 
masses, as " mudsills " and " white slaves," defying the Govern- 
ment, its Constitution and its laws, has openly pronounced itself 
the mortal and unappeasable enemy of the Republic. Slavery 
stands now the only clearly pronounced foe our country has on 



414 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

the globe. Therefore, every word spoken, every line written, 
every act performed, that keeps the breath of life, for a moment, 
in slavery, is against the existence and perpetuity of democratic 
institutions — against the dignity of the toiling millions of Amer- 
ica — against the liberty, the peace, the honor, the renown, and 
the life of the Nation. Tn the lights of to-day that flash upon us 
from camp and battle-field, the loyal eye, heart, and brain of 
America sees and feels and realizes that the death of sla- 
very is the life of the nation ! The loyal voice of patriot- 
ism throughout all the land pronounces, in clear accents, that 
American slavery must die that the American Repub- 
lic MAY LIVE ! H. Wilson. 



CCXCTI. 
THE FANATICISM OF MASSACHUSETTS. 

HPHIS, sir, is not the first time in her history that Massachu- 
setts has drawn upon herself reproach and rebuke for 
unbending adherence to the rights of human nature. In the 
days of her colonial existence, her unshrinking devotion to the 
rights of mankind often drew upon her the censure of the pliant 
supporters of the British Crown ; but the world now quotes and 
commends her inspiring example. Now her abhorrence of 
human slavery brings upon her the condemnation of its advo- 
cates and apologists, but the hour will yet come, in the march of 
time, when her unwavering fidelity to an unpopular cause in 
spite of obloquy and reproach, will be a source of inspiration to 
men struggling to recover lost rights. Massachusetts clings with 
the tenacity of profound conviction to the teachings of her own 
illustrious sons. She was taught by Benjamin Franklin that 
" slavery is an atrocious debasement of human nature ; " by John 
Adams that " consenting to slavery is a sacrilegious breach of 
trust ; " by John Quincy Adams that " slavery taints the very 
sources of moral principle " — " establishes false estimates of 
virtue and vice ; " by Daniel Webster that " it is a continual 
and permanent violation of human rights " — " opposed to the 
whole spirit of the Gospel, and to the teachings of Jesus Christ; " 
by William Ellery Channing that "to extend and perpetuate 
the evil, we cut ourselves off from the communion of nations ; we 



RECENT SELECTIONS. 415 

6ink below the civilization of our age ; we invite the scorn, in- 
dignation, and abhorrence of the world." Massachusetts cannot 
forget or repudiate these words of her immortal sons. 

The distinguishing opinion of Massachusetts concerning slavery 
in America is often flippantly branded in these Halls, as wild, 
passionate, unreasoning fanaticism. Senators of the South ! tell 
me, I pray you tell me, if it be fanaticism for Massachusetts to 
see in this age, what your peerless Washington saw in his age — 
" the direful effects of slavery ? " Is it fanaticism for Masachu- 
setts to believe as your Henry believed, that "slavery is as 
repugnant to humanity as it is inconsistent with the Bible, and 
destructive to liberty ? " Is it fanaticism for her to believe as 
your Madison believed, that " slavery is a dreadful calamity ? " 
Is it fanaticism for her to believe with your Monroe, that " sla- 
very has preyed upon the vitals of the Union and has been preju- 
dicial to all the States in which it has existed ? " Is it fanaticism 
for her to believe with your Martin, that " slavery lessens the 
sense of the equal rights of mankind, and habituates us to tyranny 
and oppression ? " Is it fanaticism for her to believe with your 
Pinckney, that " it will one day destroy the reverence for liberty, 
which is the vital principle of a Republic ? " Is it fanaticism for 
her to believe with your Henry Clay, that " slavery is a wrong, 
a grievous wrong, and no contingency can make it right ? " 
Surely, Senators who are wont to accuse Massachusetts of being 
drunk with fanaticism, should not forget that the noblest men the 
South has given to the service of the Republic, in peace and in 
war, were her teachers. H. Wilson. 



ccxcm. 
DEFENCE OF MASSACHUSETTS. 

A/TASSACHUSETTS, in her heart of hearts, loves liberty — 
loathes slavery. I glory in her sentiments ; for the heart 
of our common humanity is throbbing in sympathy with her opin- 
ions. But she is not unmindful of her constitutional duties, of her 
obligations to the Union and to her sister States. Up to the verge 
of constitutional power she will go in maintenance of her cher- 
ished convictions ; but she has not shrunk, and she does not 
mean to shrink, from the performance of her obligations as a 



416 THE UNION SPEAKER 

member of this Confederation of constellated States. She has 
never sought, she does not seek, to encroach, by her own acts 
or by the action of the Federal Government, upon the constitu- 
tional rights of her sister States. Jealous of her own rights, 
she will respect the rights of others. Claiming the power ttf 
control her own domestic policy, she freely accords that power 
to her sister States. Conceding the rights of others, she de- 
mands her own. Loyal to the Union, she demands loyalty in 
others. Here, and now, I demand of her accusers that they file 
their bill of specifications, and produce the proofs of their alle- 
gations, or forever hold their peace. 

In other days, when Adams, Webster, Davis, Everett, Cush- 
ing, Choate, Winthrop, Mann, Rantoul, and their associates 
graced the-e chambers, Massachusetts was then, as she is now, 
the object of animadversion and assault, I have sometimes 
thought, Mr. President, that these continual assaults upon the 
Commonwealth of Massachusetts were prompted — not by her 
faults, but by her virtues rather — not by the sense of justice, 
but by the spirit of envy and jealousy and uncharitableness. 
Unawed, however, by censure or menace,, she continues in her 
course, upward and onward, to the accomplishment of her high 
destinies. She is but a speck, a mere patch on the surface of 
America, hardly more than one four-hundredth part of the ter- 
ritory of the Republic, with a rugged soil and still more rug- 
ged clime. But on that little spot of the globe is a Common- 
wealth where common consent is recognized as the only just 
basis of fundamental law, and personal freedom is secured in 
its completest individuality. In that Commonwealth are one 
and a quarter million of freemen, with skilled hand and culti- 
vated brain, — with mechanic arts and manufactures on every 
streamlet, and commerce on the waves of all the seas — with 
institutions of moral and mental culture open to all, and art, 
science, and literature illustrated by glorious names — with be- 
nevolent institutions for the sons and daughters of misfortune 
and poverty, and charities for humanity the wide world over. 
The heart, the soul, the reason of Massachusetts send up un- 
ceasing aspirations for the unity, indivisibility, and perpetuity 
of the North American Republic ; but if it shall be rent, torn, 
dissevered, she will not lose her faith in God and humanity, 



RECENT SELECTIONS. 417 

she will not go down with the falling fortunes of her country 
without making a struggle to preserve and perpetuate free insti- 
tutions. So long as the ocean shall roll at her feet, so long as 
God shall send her health-giving breezes and sunshine and rain, 
she Avill endeavor to illustrate, in the future as in the past, the 
daily beauty of freedom secured and protected by law. 

II. Wilson. 



ccxciv. 
EMANCIPATION. 

O HALL these once slaves but now freemen be remanded back 
^ to bondage ? No : " personal property once forfeited is 
always forfeited." No : slaves once legally free are always free. 
No, no ; thrice no, by the ashes^ of our fathers, by the altar of 
our God ! The " chosen curses," and the " hidden thunder in the 
stores of heaven " will forbid the rendition — a crime to them, a 
malediction to their masters, a shame to us, and a disgrace to the 
age. If these children of wrong and oppression are the lawful 
spoil of our victorious arms, give up to the enemy your proudest 
national memorials — the sword of Washington, the staff of 
Franklin, that time-worn but immortal parchment which first 
authoritatively published your Independence to the world — give 
up to him the blood-stained flags and trophies w T hich, upon the 
bristling crest of battle, our heroic defenders have wrenched from 
his desperate grasp ; give up to him this Capitol itself, and throw 
at his feet the President's head, before you give up the most 
abject of these bondsmen disenthralled ; for in surrendering them 
you will squander one of those priceless moments, big with the 
future, worth more than a whole generation of either bond or 
free, the rare and pregnant occasion — placed in your hand by 
the fortune of war — of wiping forever African slavery from the 
American continent. 

If this deliverance is ever vouchsafed, then shall we be purged 
forever of the sole source of our weakness and dissension in the 
past ; then will pass away forever the sole cloud that threatens 
the glory of our future ; then will the American Union be 
transfigured into a more erect and shining presence, and tread 
with firm footsteps a loftier plane, and cherish nobler theories, 
and carry its head nearer the stars ; then will it be no profana- 

27 

I 



418 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

tion to wed its redeemed and unpolluted name to that of immor- 
tal Liberty ; then Liberty and Union will go on, hand in hand, 
and, under a holier inspiration and with more benign and blessed 
auspices, will revive their grand mission of peacefully acquiring 
and peacefully incorporating contiguous territories, and peace- 
fully assimilating their inhabitants ; then from the Orient to the 
Occident, from the flowery shores of the great Southern Gulf 
to the frozen barriers of the great Northern Bay, will they unite 
in spreading a civilization, not intertwined with slavery, but 
purged of its contamination, a civilization which means universal 
emancipation, universal enfranchisement, universal brotherhood. 

Despair not, then, soldiers, statesmen, citizens, women, who 
are fighting energetically for a nation's life. The cloud which 
now shuts down before your vision will yet disclose its silver 
lining. Peace shall be born from war, and out of chaos order 
shall yet emerge. We shall dwell together in harmony, and but 
one nation shall inhabit our sea-girt borders. We seem sail- 
ing along the land, hearing the ripple that breaks upon the 
shore, where our recreated and regenerated Republic, after it 
has passed through this fiery furnace of war, these gates of death, 
shall be permanently installed. We shall yet tread its meadows 
and pastures green, trade in its marts, live in its palaces, worship 

in its temples, and legislate in its Capitol. 

H. C. Deming. 



ccxcv. 

PROTECTION FOR TENNESSEE. 

PTIHE amendments to the Constitution which constitute the 
-*- Bill of Rights, declare that " a well-regulated militia being 
necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people 
to keep and bear arms shall not be infringed." Our people are 
denied this right secured to them in their own constitution and 
the constitution of the United States ; yet we hear no complaints 
here of violations of the Constitution in this respect. We ask 
the Government to interpose to secure us this constitutional 
right. We want the passes in our mountains opened, we want 
deliverance and protection for a down-trodden and oppressed • 
people who are struggling for their independence without arms. 
If we had had ten thousand stand of arms and ammunition when 
the contest commenced, we should have asked no further assist- I 



RECENT SELECTIONS. 419 

ance. We have not got them. We are a rural people ; we have 
villages and small towns — no large cities. Our population is 
homogenous, industrious, frugal, brave, independent ; but now 
harmless and powerless, and oppressed by usurpers. You may 
be too late in coming to our relief, or you may not come at all — 
though I do not doubt you will come — and they may trample us 
under foot ; they may convert our plains into graveyards, and 
the caves of our mountains into sepulchres ; but they will never 
take us out of this Union, or make us a land of slaves — no, 
never ! We intend to stand as firm as adamant, and as unyield- 
ing, as our own majestic mountains that surround us. Yes, we 
will be as fixed and as immovable as are they upon their bases. 
We will stand as long as we can ; and if we are overpowered 
and Liberty shall be driven from the land, we intend before she 
departs to take the flag of our country, with a stalwart arm, a 
patriotic heart, and an honest tread, and place it upon the sum- 
mit of the loftiest and most majestic mountain. We intend to 
plant it there, and leave it, to indicate to the inquirer who may 
come in after times, the spot where the Goddess of Liberty 
lingered and wept for the last time, before she took her flight 
from a people once prosperous, free, and happy. 

We ask the Government to come to our aid. We love the 
Constitution as made by our fathers. We have confidence in 
the integrity and capacity of the people to govern themselves. 
We have lived entertaining these opinions ; we intend to die 
entertaining them. We may meet with impediments, and may 
meet with disasters, and here and there a defeat; but ulti- 
mately freedom's cause must triumph, for — 

11 Freedom's battle once begun, 
Bequeathed from bleeding sire to son, 
Though baffled oft, is ever won." 

Yes, we must triumph. My faith is strong, based on the eter- 
nal principles of right, that a thing so monstrously wrong as 
this rebellion cannot triumph. I say, let the battle go on — it is 
■ freedom's cause — until the Stars and Stripes (God bless them!) 
I shall again be unfurled upon every cross-road, and from every 
house-top throughout the Confederacy North and South. Let 
i! the Union be reinstated ; let the law be enforced ; let the Con- 
1 stitution be supreme. A.Johnson. 



420 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

CCXCVI. 
TEE SUBMISSIONISTS. 

TT7ITH the curled lip of scorn we are told by the disunionists 
that, in thus supporting a Republican Administration in 
its endeavors to uphold the Constitution and the laws, we are 
" submissionists," and when .they have pronounced this word, 
they suppose they have imputed to us the sum of all human 
abasement. Well, let it be confessed, we are " submissionists," 
and weak and spiritless as it may be deemed by some, we glory 
in the position we occupy. The law says, " Thou shalt not 
swear falsely ; " we submit to this law, and while in the civil or 
military service of the country, with an oath to support the Con- 
stitution of the United States resting upon our consciences, we 
would not, for any earthly consideration, engage in the formation 
or execution of a conspiracy to subvert that very Constitution 
and with it the Government to which it has given birth. Write 
us down, therefore, " submissionists." 

Nor are we at all disturbed by the flippant taunt that, in 
thus submitting to the authority of our Government, we are 
necessarily cowards. We know whence this taunt comes, and 
we estimate it at its true value. We hold that there is a 
higher courage in the performance of duty than in the com- 
mission of crime. The tiger of the jungle and the cannibal of 
the South Sea Islands have that courage in which the revolu- 
tionists of the day make their especial boast ; the angels of God 
and the spirits of just men made perfect have had, and have 
that courage which submits to the law. Lucifer was a non- 
submissionist, and the first secessionist of whom history has 
given us any account, and the chains which he wears fitly ex- 
press the fate due to all who openly defy the laws of their 
Creator and of their country. He rebelled because the Al- 
mighty would not yield to him the throne of heaven. The 
principle of the Southern rebellion is the same. Indeed, in this 
submission to the laws, is found the chief distinction between 
good men and devils. A good man obeys the laws of truth, of 
honesty, of morality, and all those laws which have been enacted 
by competent authority for the government and protection of the 



RECENT SELECTIONS. 421 

country in which he lives ; a devil obeys only his own ferocious 
and profligate passions. 

The principle on which this rebellion proceeds, that laws have 
in themselves no sanctions, no binding force upon the conscience, 
and that every man, under the promptings of interest, or passion, 
or caprice, may at will, and honorably, too, strike at the govern- 
ment that shelters him, is one of utter demoralization, and should 
be trodden out as you would tread out a spark that has fallen on 
the roof of your dwelling. Its unchecked prevalence would 
resolve society into chaos, and leave you without the slightest 
guarantee for life, liberty, or property. It is time, that, in their 
majesty, the people of the United States should make known to 
the world that this Government, in its dignity and power, is 
something more than a moot court, and that the citizen who 
makes war upon it is a traitor, not only in theory but in fact, 
and should have meted out to him a traitor's doom. The coun- 
try wants no bloody sacrifice, but it must and will have*peace, 

cost what it may. j. Holt. 

» 

ccxcvn. 
ADDRESS TO KENTUCKY VOLUNTEERS. 

QOLDIERS, next to the worship of the Father of us all, the 
^ deepest and grandest of human emotions is the love of the 
land that gave us birth. It is an enlargement and exaltation of 
all the tenderest and strongest sympathies of kindred and of 
home. In all centuries and climes it has lived and has defied 
chains and dungeons and racks to crush it. It has strewed the 
earth with its monuments, and has shed undying lustre on a thou- 
sand fields on which it has battled. Through the night of ages, 
Thermopylae glows like some mountain peak on which the morn- 
ing sun has risen, because twenty-three hundred years ago, this 
hallowing passion touched its mural precipices and its crowning 
crags. 

It is easy, however, to be patriotic in piping times of peace, 
and in the sunny hpur of prosperity. It is national sorrow, it is 
war, with its attendant perils and horrors, that tests this passion, 
and winnows from the masses those who, with all their love of 
life, still love their country more. While your present position 



422 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

is a most vivid and impressive illustration of patriotism, it has a 
glory peculiar and altogether its own. 

The mercenary armies which have swept victoriously over the 
world, and have gathered so many of the laurels that history has 
embalmed, were but machines drafted into the service of ambi- 
tious spirits whom they obeyed, and little understood or appre- 
ciated the problems their blood was poured out to solve. But 
while you have all the dauntless physical courage which they 
displayed, you add to it a thorough knowledge of the argument 
on which this mighty movement proceeds, and a moral heroism 
which, breaking away from the entanglements of kindred, and 
friends, and State policy, enables you to follow your convictions 
of duty, even though they should lead you up to the cannon's 
mouth. It must, however, be added, that with elevation of posi- 
tion come corresponding responsibilities. Alike in the inaction 
of the camp, and amid the fatigues of the march, and the charge 
and snouts of battle, you will remember that you have in your 
keeping not only your own personal reputation, but the honor of 
your native State, and, what is infinitely more inspiring, the 
honor of that blood-bought and beneficent Republic whose chil- 
dren you are. Any irregularity on your part would sadden the 
land that loves you ; any faltering in the presence of the foe 
would cover it with immeasurable humiliation. 

Soldiers, when Napoleon was about to spur on his legions to 
combat on the sands of an African desert, pointing them to the 
Egyptian pyramids that loomed up against the far-off horizon, 
he exclaimed, " From yonder summits forty centuries look down 
upon you." The thought was sublime and electric ; but you 
have even more than this. When you shall confront those infu- 
riated hosts, whose battle-cry is, " Down with the Government 
of the United States," let your answering shout be, " The Gov- 
ernment as our fathers made it ; " and when you strike, remem- 
ber that not only do the good and the great of the past look 
down upon you from heights infinitely above those of Egyptian 
pyramids, but that uncounted generations yet to come are look- 
ing up to you, and claiming at your hands the unimpaired trans- 
mission to them of that priceless heritage which has been com- 
mitted to our keeping. I say its unimpaired transmission — in 
all the amplitude of its outlines, in all the symmetry of its 



RECENT SELECTIONS. 423 

matchless proportions, in all the palpitating fulness of its bless- 
ings ; not a miserably shrivelled and shattered thing, charred by 
the fires and torn by the tempests of revolution, and all over pol- 
luted and scarred by the bloody poniards of traitors. j. iiolt. 



CCXCVIII. 
THE AMERICAN QUESTION IN ENGLAND. 

/CITIZENS of Carlisle, I have endeavored to present to 
^-"^ your view a faithful picture of the religion and politics, the 
objects and the aims, of the rebel confederate States of America ; 
of those States that at this moment, through their commissioned 
emissaries on this side the Atlantic, are seeking admission into 
the Commonwealth of Christian nations ! One of these accred- 
ited representatives is, while I am speaking, upon our shores ; 
and on the behalf of the object of these men some of our leading 
journals are daily writing laborious articles ; for them our ship- 
builders are constructing warlike vessels, not to meet an equal 
foe in fair fight, but to plunder and destroy defenceless merchant- 
men, engaged in the lawful and laudable trade of carrying the 
legitimate products of one country to the markets of another; 
for these men our capitalists are raising money, that, if possible, 
they may render successful a rebel slaveholders' revolt — a re- 
volt which for wickedness and infamy has no parallel save in the 
impious rebellion of Lucifer and his compeers. 



Yonder, across the wide waste of waters, four millions of 
helpless slaves — the victims of* the cruelty and lust of Southern 
men-stealers — raise their fettered hands and imploringly inquire 
what part you will take in the conflict which involves their fate 
and that of their posterity ; whether you will give aid and com- 
fort to their oppressors, or whether you will send them words of 
sympathy and hope, and give encouragement and support to the 
friends of freedom in the North, who are nobly sacrificing prop- 
erty and life for their redemption. What answer will you re- 
turn to this appeal ? What think you is the duty of England in 
this life-or-death contest between the North and the South ? Of 



424 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

England, whose heart was with the cause of the heroic black 
population of Hayti, when, under the leadership of the immortal 
Toussaint l'Ouverture, they were resisting unto blood, in the 
cause of liberty, the mercenary hordes of Napoleon ? Of Eng- 
land who, with disinterested ardor, fought the battle of the 
Greeks against the Turks ? Of England, who has so often 
raised her voice on behalf of bleeding, crushed, denationalized 
Poland ? Who has welcomed in her cities, and cherished in her 
homes, the illustrious patriot Louis Kossuth ? Whose best wishes 
and earnest prayers have ever attended the efforts in the cause 
of freedom of Mazzini and Garibaldi ? 

In what do the struggles in which England has heretofore 
sympathized, differ from that which is now convulsing America? 
Is it not a contest between a vile slaveholding oligarchy on 
the one hand, and the upholders of free democratic institutions 
and the friends of emancipation on the other ? The only differ- 
ence, if difference there be, is this, that the conspirators against 
human rights in the South are fighting for objects immeasurably 
more base and more deeply stained with guilt than any which 
were ever sought by the crowned kings and despots of the Old 
World. The confederate banditti of the South are fighting for 
what their Vice-President avows is a new idea — a government 
based upon the perpetual enslavement of the laboring class. In 
a conflict between liberty and slavery — between a free democratic 
government, and the foulest despotism which the enemies of 
mankind ever conspired together to establish, where should Eng- 
land stand ? On the side of two hundred and fifty thousand 
traitors and tyrants, or on the side of four millions of slaves ? 
England with her past history and glorious traditions, England 
that extinguished the accursed slave trade, and abolished colonial 
slavery, whose cathedrals and council chambers and market 
places are adorned with the statues of Howard and Wilberforce, 
and Clarkson, and Buxton, and Sturge ? 

It may be granted that, when the Government of the North 
first armed for the defence of the national life, it did not at once 
decree the universal abolition of slavery ; and I have given, as I 
think, good and sufficient reasons why it did not and could not. 
The action of the President at the beginning was restricted to 
constitutional objects. Those objects were — the enforcement 



RECENT SELECTIONS. 425 

of the laws ; the suppression of a local insurrection ; the reinte- 
gration of the disputed territory ; the protection of the Capitol 
and its archives from the spoliating hands of traitors. But the 
seat of government saved ; the President seated firmly in the 
chair ; the Congress duly assembled ; and the machinery of the 
Constitution set to work ; and then commenced, and were carried 
out, a series of measures such as were never before accomplished 
in the same space of time by any government in the world. 
First we saw r the National District purged from the pollution and 
shame of slavery ; then, the prohibition of slavery forever in the 
vast Territories of the Northwest ; then, the enforcement of the 
laws against the slave trade, and the execution of Gordon the 
slave trader ; then, an offer of compensation to such slave States 
as would adopt measures of emancipation ; then, the recognition 
of the independence of the black republics of Hayti and Liberia ; 
and finally, a proclamation of freedom to all the slaves within 
the rebel States. 

It was said of Napoleon that he would go down to posterity 
with the code which bears his name, in his hand. It may be 
said of Abraham Lincoln, that he will descend to future time, 
holding in his hand the Great Charter of the Negro's rights — 
his Emancipation Proclamation of January, 1863. With such 
a President, at the head of such a people, engaged in such a 
cause, need I answer the questions I have so often put to you, on 
which side should England be found in the great American strug- 
gle? G. Thompson. 
» 

CCXCIX. 
PATRIOTISM. 

T3IGHT and wrong, justice and crime, exist independently 
of our country. A public wrong is not a private right for 
any citizen. The citizen is a man bound to know and do the 
right, and the nation is but an aggregation of citizens. If a 
man should shout, in the delirium of his dinner, " My country, 
by whatever means extended and bounded : my country, right or 
wrong ; " he merely repeats the words of the thief who steals in 
the street, or of the trader who swears falsely at the Custom- 
House, both of them chuckling — " My fortune, however ac- 
quired." 



426 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

Thus, gentlemen, we see that a man's country is not a certain 
area of land — of mountains, rivers, and woods — but it is prin- 
ciple ; and patriotism is loyalty to that principle. 

In poetic minds and in popular enthusiasm this feeling be- 
comes closely associated with the soil and symbols of the country. 
But the secret sanctification of the soil and the symbol is the idea 
which they represent, and this idea the patriot worships through 
the name and the symbol, as a lover kisses with rapture the glove 
of his mistress and wears a lock of her hair upon his heart. 

So, with passionate heroism, of which tradition is never weary 
of tenderly telling, Arnold Von Winkelried gathers into his 
bosom the sheaf of foreign spears, that his death may give life to 
his country. So Nathan Hale, disdaining no service that his 
country demands, perishes untimely, with no other friend than 
God and the satisfied sense of duty. So George Washington, 
at once comprehending the scope of the destiny to which his 
country was devoted, with one hand put aside the crown, and 
with the other sets his slaves free. So, through all history from 
the beginning, a noble army of martyrs has fought fiercely and 
fallen bravely for that unseen mistress, their country. So, 
through all history to the end, as long as men believe in God, 
that army must still march and fight and fall — * recruited only 
from the flower of mankind — cheered only by their own hope 
of humanity — strong only in their confidence in their cause. 

G. W. Curtis. 



CCC. 
POLITICAL MORALITY. 

TTAVE we no interest that the controlling force in this 
-^ ■*- country shall be a moral force ? — that it shall conspire 
with the great idea of Liberty, and not degrade and destroy it ? 
The theory of our institutions is our pride. But it is a pitiful 
truth that our public life has become synonymous with knavery. 
If a politician is introduced, you feel of your pockets. It is 
shameful that it is universally conceded that the best men, the 
men of intelligence and probity, generally avoid politics, and 
that the word itself has come to mean something not to be 



RECENT SELECTIONS. 427 

touched without defilement. Consequently, what good men will 
not touch, bad men will. It is understood that bribery carries 
the election ; and the Presidency is the result of an adroit proc- 
ess of financial engineering. I have myself been shown a hand- 
ful of bank-notes publicly displayed in the ante-room of a Legis- 
lature, and sagaciously told : " That is the logic for legislators." 
Men think they cannot afford to go to Congress, and send other 
men to do their duties to the State — forgetting that we can have 
nothing without paying for it, and that if we hope to enjoy the 
best government in the world we must give time and labor, each 
one of us, and not suppose that the country will govern itself, 
nor bad men govern it well. 

Remember that the greatness of our country is not in its 
achievement, but in its promise — a promise which cannot be 
fulfilled without that sovereign moral sense — without a sensitive 
national conscience. If it were a question of the mere daily 
pleasure of living, the gratification of taste, opportunity of access 
to the great intellectual and aesthetic results of human genius, 
and whatever embellishes human life, no man could hesitate for a 
moment between the fulness of foreign lands in these respects, 
and the conspicuous poverty of our own. What have we done ? 
We have subdued and settled a vast domain. We have made 
every inland river turn a mill, and wherever, on the dim rim of 
the globe, there is a harbor, we have lighted it with an American 
sail. We have bound the Atlantic to the Mississippi, so that we 
drift from the sea to the prairie upon a cloud of vapor ; and we 
are stretching one hand across the continent to fulfil the hope 
of Columbus in a shorter way to Cathay, and with the other we 
are grasping under the sea to clasp there the hand of the old 
continent, that so the throbbing of the ocean may not toss us 
further apart, but be as the beating of one common pulse of the 
world. 

Yet these are the results common to all national enterprise, 
and different with us only in degree, not in kind. These are but 
the tools with which to shape a destiny. Commercial prosperity 
is only a curse, if it be not subservient to moral and intellectual 
progress ; and our prosperity will conquer us, if we do not con- 
quer our prosperity. G. W. Curtis. 



428 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

CCCI. 

IDEAS THE LIFE OF A PEOPLE. 

rj^HE leaders of our Revolution were men of whom the simple 
"*" truth is the highest praise. Of every condition in life, they 
were singularly sagacious, sober and thoughtful. Lord Chatham 
spoke only the truth when he said to Franklin, of the men who 
composed the first colonial Congress : " The Congress is the 
most honorable assembly of statesmen since those of the ancient 
Greeks and Romans in the most virtuous times." Given to 
grave reflection, they were neither dreamers nor visionaries, and 
they were much too earnest to be rhetoricians. It is a curious 
fact, that they were generally men of so calm a temper that they 
lived to extreme age. With the exception of Patrick Henry and 
Samuel Adams, they were most of them profound scholars, and 
studied the history of mankind that they might know men. 
They were so familiar with the lives and thoughts of the wisest 
and best minds of the past that a classic aroma hangs about their 
writings and their speech ; and they were profoundly convinced 
of what statesmen always know, and the adroitest mere politi- 
cians never perceive — that ideas are the life of a people — that 
the conscience, not the pocket, is the real citadel of a nation, and 
that when you have debauched and demoralized that conscience 
by teaching that there are no natural rights, and that therefore 
there is no moral right or wrong in political action, you have 
poisoned the wells and rotted the crops in the ground. The three 
greatest living statesmen of England knew this also — Edmund 
Burke knew it, and Charles James Fox, and William Pitt, Earl 
of Chatham. But they did not speak for the King or Parlia- 
ment, or the English nation. Lord Gower spoke for them when 
he said in Parliament : " Let the Americans talk about their 
natural and divine rights ! their rights as men and citizens ! their 
rights from God and nature ! I am for enforcing these meas- 
ures ! " My lord was contemptuous, and the King hired the 
Hessians, but the truth remained true. The Fathers saw the 
scarlet soldiers swarming over the sea, but more steadily they 
saw that national progress had been secure only in the decree 
that the political system had conformed to natural justice. They 



RECENT SELECTIONS. 429 

knew the coming wreck of property and trade, but they knew 
more surely that Rome was never so rich as when she was dying, 
and, on the other hand, the Netherlands, never so powerful as 
when they were poorest. Farther away, they read the names 
of Assyria, Greece, Egypt. They had art, opulence, splendor. 
Corn enough grew in the valley of the Nile. The Syrian sword 
was as sharp as any. They were merchant princes, and the 
clouds in the sky were rivalled by their sails upon the sea. 
They were soldiers, and their frown frightened the world. " Soul, 
take thine ease," those Empires said, languid with excess of lux- 
ury and life. Yes : but you remember the King who had built his 
grandest palace, and was to occupy it upon the morrow, but 
when the morrow came the palace was a pile of ruins. " Woe 
is me ! " cried the King, " who is guilty of this crime ? " " There 
is no crime," replied the sage at his side ; " but the mortar was 
made of sand and water only, and the builders forgot to put in 
the lime." So fell the old empires, because the governors forgot 
to put justice into their governments. g. W. Curtis. 



cccn. 
THE SAME CONCLUDED. 

PT^HESE things our fathers saw and pondered. I do not .mean 
■*- that when the Writs of Assistance were issued, or the Stamp 
Act proposed, or Port Bill passed, they did not oppose them upon 
technical and legal grounds. Undoubtedly they did. But their 
character, and habits, and studies, were such that, as the tyranny 
encroached, they rose naturally into the sphere of fundamental 
truths, as into a purer and native air. In great crises, men 
always revert to first principles, as in sailing out of sight of land 
the mariner consults celestial laws. So the Fathers began at 
the beginning, with God and human nature, and derived their 
government from truths which they disdained to prove, asserting 
them to be self-evident. Thus the Revolution was not the strug- 
gle of a class only, but of a people. It was not merely the 
rebellion of subjects whose pockets were threatened, it was the 
protest of men whose instincts had been outraged. As Mr. 
Webster was fond of saying, it was fought on a preamble. A 



430 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

two-penny tax on tea or paper was not the cause, it was only the 
occasion, of the Eevolution. The spirit which fought the des- 
perate and disastrous battle on Long Island yonder was not a 
spirit which could be quieted by the promise of sugar gratis. 
The chance of success was slight — the penalty of failure was 
sure. But they believed in God, they kissed wife and child, left 
them in His hand, and kept their powder dry. Then to Valley 
Forge, the valley of the shadow of death — with feet bleeding 
upon the sharp ground — with hunger, thirst, and cold dogging 
their steps — with ghastly death waiting for them in the snow, 
they bore that faith in ideas which brought their fathers over a 
pitiless sea to a pitiless shore. 

Ideas were their food ; ideas were their coats and camp-fires. 
They knew that their ranks were thin and raw, and the enemy 
trained and many. But they knew, also, that the only difficulty 
with the proverb that God fights upon the side of the strongest 
battalions is that it is not true. If you load muskets with bullets 
only, the result is simply a question of numbers. But one gun 
loaded with an idea is more fatal than the muskets of a whole 
regiment. A bullet kills a tyrant, but an idea kills tyranny. 
What chance have a thousand men fighting for a sixpence a day 
against a hundred fighting for life and liberty, for home and na- 
tive land ? In such hands, the weapons themselves feel and think. 
And so the family firelocks and rusty swords, the horse-pistol 
and old scythes of our fathers thought terribly at Lexington and 
Monmouth, at Saratoga and Eutaw Springs. The old Continental 
muskets thought out the whole Revolution. The English and 
Hessian arms were better and brighter than ours ; but they were 
charged only with saltpetre. Our guns were loaded and rammed 
home with ideas. g. W. Curtis. 



cccin. 
EMANCIPATION THE WAR POLICY OF THE PRESIDENT. 

\ T length the skies are cleared, and the oracles have spoken. 
■^- The ultimate achievement is already determined in the 
irreversible purpose of the loyal States ; and that purpose is, a 
restored republic from the Gulf to the Lakes, — and a Republic 

Of FREEMEN. 



RECENT SELECTIONS. 431 

When the war first broke out, the free States became at once 
united for the safety of the capital and for vengeance upon those 
who had dishonored the common flag. Time passed on ; the 
capital was supposed to be secure ; changing fortune visited our 
arms ; the people of the North became divided ; some insisted 
upon an instant order of emancipation ; others insisted upon no 
emancipation at all. One there was, as it has seemed to me, 
who abided the time of Providence and possessed his soul in 
patience ; he was the President. He waited, counselled, strug- 
gled for a restored Union, before which and in comparison with 
which all other things should be subordinated. Within seven- 
teen months after the first gun — so short are the historic stages 
in our time — he issued his proclamation of freedom with three 
months of notice. It saved the heart of the North and of a por- 
tion of Europe. 

In the mean time the loyal arms had rescued several States 
from the clutch of revolt, and the inquiry everywhere arose, 
when, and how, and in what manner, the policy of emancipation 
should be applied. Then again it was, in the fulness of time, 
that the second Presidential proclamation came forth for the 
restoration of the States upon the basis of the equality of all men 
before God. Upon that he will stand, and upon that we shall 
stand, with no faltering or retracing step, until from the waters 
of the Gulf to the woods of the North, and from the Atlantic 
to the Pacific sea, this broad beat of empire shall possess an 
invincible people with no clanking manacle to fetter the creatures 
of God. 

Accepting this, then, as the fixed policy of the States which 
are to subjugate the rebellion, we may felicitate ourselves 
upon the part we are permitted to bear in human events — that 
a measure, which in other countries and in more peaceful ages 
would have required a quarter or a half a century for its accom- 
plishment, has become the announced edict of the loyal people of 
the United States, within the space of thirty -four months. The 
abolishment of the slave trade by the British Government, initi- 
ated by Wilberforce, supported by Pitt and Fox, and Burke and 
Grenville, was accomplished only after seventeen years of par- 
liamentary agitation. 

When Mr. Fox, in 1806, submitted this, which proved to be 



432 THE UNIOff SPEAKER. 

the last motion he ever made in Parliament, and lived to wit- 
ness its success, nobly did he declare : " That if, during the forty 
years he had sat in Parliament, he had been so fortunate as to 
accomplish that object, and that only, he should think he had 
done enough." If Mr. Fox might take to his heart that gratula- 

tion over the first sanction extorted from the Legislature of 

* 
Great Britain for the abolition of the slave trade, may I not 

reclaim it with redoubled force for the American Magistrate 
under whose decree four millions of men will burst the bondage 
of ages, and mount enriched and ennobled to the enfranchisements 
of immortality. 

The literature of England is rich with the eloquence of eulo- 
gium upon the statesman whose star was in the ascendant when 
freedom became the policy of the Empire ; but I choose to appro- 
priate it to him upon this side of the ocean, who has achieved the 
highest honor of mortal lot ; who has won a triumph which leaves 
every other triumph of humanity and justice out of sight behind 
it, and for which, to the end of time, mankind will revere his 
name and bless his memory. a. H. Bullock. 



ccciv. 
TEE DUTY OF THE BOUR. 

AS to duty, that is clear from what I have already told you. 
■^*- We owe allegiance to the Government of the Union, and 
its history to the breaking out of the present foul rebellion, the 
memory of the men who gave it to us, the untold blessings it 
has conferred upon us, the support it has given to constitu- 
tional liberty everywhere, the gratitude we owe to "Washington, 
whom Providence, it has been said, left childless, that his 
country might call him father, will all unite in making that 
allegiance a pleasure as well as a duty. To be false to such a 
Government, to palter even with the treason that seeks its 
downfall, to associate with the wicked men or the madmen who 
are in arms against it, would be as vile a dishonor and as base 
a crime as fallen man ever perpetrated. 

Peace, in such a crisis — the cry of our opponents — how is 



RECENT SELECTIONS. 433 

it to be attained ? How, upon their plan, but by a gross viola- 
tion of our clearest obligations — or total disregard of an alle- 
giance to which we are bound, not only by the Constitution, but 
by the pledge our ancestors gave for us ? The force the Gov- 
ernment is raising is not, as is falsely alleged by the conspira- 
tors, to subjugate States or citizens. It is but to vindicate the 
Constitution and the laws, and maintain the existence of the 
Government. It is but to suppress the " insurrection," force the 
citizen to return to his duty, and restore him to the unequalled 
benefits of the Union. And when this is done, as done it will 
be if there is justice in Heaven, the authors of the present 
calamity will be consigned to the execrations of the civilized 
world, and punished, perhaps, if that is possible, more severely 
by the people whom, by arts and subterfuges, they have so de- 
luded and deceived. R.Johnson. 



cccv. 
THE FIRST GUN FIRED AT SUMTER. 

A S if to show how coldly and calmly all this had been cal- 
•*■-*" culated beforehand by the conspirators, to make sure that 
no absence of malice aforethought should degrade the grand 
malignity of settled purpose into the trivial effervescence of 
transient passion, the torch which was literally to launch the 
first missile, figuratively, to " fire the Southern heart " and light 
the flame of civil war, was given into the trembling hand of an 
old white-headed man, the wretched incendiary whom history 
will handcuff in eternal infamy with the temple-burner of ancient 
Ephesus. The first gun that spat its iron insult at Fort Sum- 
ter, smote every loyal American full in the face. As when the 
foul witch used to torture her miniature image, the person it 
represented suffered all that she inflicted on his waxen counter- 
part, so every buffet that fell on the smoking fortress was felt 
by the sovereign nation of which that was the representative. 
Robbery could go no farther, for every loyal man of the North 
was despoiled in that single act as much as if a footpad had laid 
hands upon him to take from him his father's staff and his moth- 
er's Bible. Insult could go no farther, for over those battered 
walls waved the precious symbol of all we most value in the 
28 



434 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

past and hope for in the future, — the banner under which we 
became a nation, and which, next to the cross of the Redeemer, 
is the dearest object of love and honor to all who toil or march 
or sail beneath its waving folds of glory. o. W. Holmes. 



cccvi. 
OUR COUNTRTS CALL. 

~\KJ"& shall have success if we truly will success, — not other- 
wise. It may be long in coming, — Heaven only knows 
through what trials and humblings we may have to pass before 
the full strength of the nation is duly arrayed and led to victory. 
We must be patient, as our fathers were patient ; even in our 
worst calamities we must remember that defeat itself may be 
a gain where it costs our enemy more in relation to his strength 
than it costs ourselves. But if, in the inscrutable providence 
of the Almighty, this generation is disappointed in its lofty aspi- 
rations for the race, if we have not virtue enough to ennoble our 
whole people, and make it a nation of sovereigns, we shall at 
least hold in undying honor those who vindicated the insulted 
majesty of the Republic, and struck at her assailants so long as 
a drum-beat summoned them to the field of duty. 

Citizens of Boston, sons and daughters of New England, men 
and women of the North, brothers and sisters in the bond of 
the American Union, you have among you the scared and wasted 
soldiers who have shed their blood for your temporal salva- 
tion. They bore your Nation's emblems bravely through the 
fire and smoke of the battle-field ; nay, their own bodies are 
starred with bullet-wounds and striped with sabre-cuts, as if to 
mark them as belonging to their country until their dust becomes 
a portion of the soil which they defended. In every Northern 
graveyard slumber the victims of this destroying struggle. Many 
whom you remember playing as children amidst the clover-blos- 
soms of our Northern fields, sleep under nameless mounds, with 
strange Southern wild-flowers blooming over them. By those 
wounds of living heroes, by those graves of fallen martyrs, by 
the hopes of your children, and the claims of your children's 
children yet unborn, in the name of outraged honor, in the inter- 



RECENT SELECTIONS. 435 

est of violated sovereignty, for the life of an imperilled nation, 
for the sake of men everywhere and of our common humanity, 
for the glory of God and the advancement of His kingdom on 
earth, your country calls upon you to stand by her through good 
report and through evil report, in triumph and in defeat, until 
she emerges from the great war of Western civilization, Queen of 
the broad continent, arbitress in the councils of earth's emanci- 
pated peoples ; until the flag that fell from the wall of Fort Sum- 
ter floats again inviolate, supreme, over all her ancient inheri- 
tance, every fortress, every capital, every ship, and this warring 
land is once more a united nation. o. W. Holmes. 



cccvn. 
MANHOOD AND COUNTRY BEFORE WEALTH AND LUXURY. 

j~ ET us say it plainly — it will not hurt our people to be 
-^ taught that there are other things to be cared for besides 
money making and money spending ; that the time has come 
when manhood must assert itself by brave deeds and noble 
thoughts ; when womanhood must assume its most sacred office, 
" to warn, to comfort," and, if need be, " to command " those 
whose services their country calls for. This Northern section 
of the land has become a great variety shop, of which the Atlantic 
cities are the long-extended counter. We have grown rich for 
what ? To put gilt bands on coachmen's hats ? To sweep the 
foul sidewalks with the heaviest silks which the toiling artisans 
of France can send us ? To look through plate-glass windows, 
and pity the brown soldiers, — or sneer at the black ones ? to 
reduce the speed of trotting horses a second or two below its old 
minimum ? to color meerschaums ? to flaunt in laces, and spar- 
kle in diamonds ? to dredge our maiden's hair with gold-dust ? to 
float through life, the passive shuttlecocks of fashion, from the 
avenues to the beaches, and back again from the beaches to the 
avenues ? Was it for this that the broad domain of the Western 
hemisphere was kept so long unvisited by civilization ? — for 
this, that Time, the father of empires, unbound the virgin zone 
of this youngest of his daughters, and gave her, beautiful in the 
long veil of her forests, to the rude embrace of the adventurous 
Colonists ? 



436 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

All this is what we see around us, now, — now, while we are 
actually fighting this great battle, and supporting this great load 
of indebtedness. Wait till the diamonds go back to the Jews of 
Amsterdam ; till the plate-glass window bears the fatal announce- 
ment, For Sale, or to Let ; till the voice of our Miriam is obeyed 
as she sings : — 

" Weave no more silks, ye Lyons looms ! " 

till the gold-dust is combed from golden locks, and hoarded to 
buy bread ; till the fast-driving youth smokes his clay-pipe on 
the platform of the horse-car ; till the music-grinders cease 
because none will pay them ; till there are no peaches in the 
windows at twenty-four dollars a dozen, and no heaps of bananas 
and pine-apples selling at the street-corners ; till the ten-flounced 
dress has but three flounces, and it is a felony to drink cham- 
pagne ; — wait till these changes show themselves, the signs of 
deeper wants, the preludes of exhaustion and bankruptcy ; then 
let us talk of the Maelstrom ; — but till then, let us not be cow- 
ards with our purses, while brave men are emptying their hearts 
upon the earth for us ; let us not whine over our imaginary ruin, 
while the reversed current of circling events is carrying us farther 
and farther, every hour, beyond the influence of the great failing 
which was born of our wealth, and of the deadly sin which was 
our fatal inheritance ! 0. W. Holmes. 



cccvm. 
OUR COUNTRTS GREATEST GLORY. 

rpHE true glory of a nation is in an intelligent, honest, industri- 
-*- ous Christian people. The civilization of a people depends 
on their individual character ; and a constitution which is not 
the outgrowth of this character is not worth the parchment on 
which it is written. You look in vain in the past for a single 
instance where the people have preserved their liberties after 
their individual character was lost. It is not in the magnificence 
of its palaces, not in the beautiful creations of art lavished on its 
public edifices, not in costly libraries and galleries of pictures, 
not in the number or wealth of its cities, that we find pledges of 



RECENT SELECTIONS. 437 

a nation's glory. The ruler may gather around him the treas- 
ures of the world, amid a brutalized people ; the senate chamber 
may retain its faultless proportions long after the voice of patri- 
otism is hushed within its walls ; the monumental marble may 
commemorate a glory which has forever departed. Art and let- 
ters may bring no lesson to a people whose heart is dead. 

The true glory of a nation is in the living temple of a loyal, 
industrious, and upright people. The busy click of machinery, 
the merry ring of the anvil, the lowing of peaceful herds, and the 
song of the harvest-home, are sweeter music than paeans of 
departed glory, or songs of triumph in war. The vine-clad cot- 
tage of the hill-side, the cabin of the woodsman, and the rural 
home of the farmer are the true citadels of any country. There 
is a dignity in honest toil which belongs not to the display of 
wealth or the luxury of fashion. The man who drives the 
plough, or swings his axe in the forest, or with cunning fingers 
plies the tools of his craft, is as truly the servant of his country, 
as the statesman in the senate or the soldier in battle. The 
safety of a nation depends not alone on the wisdom of its states- 
men or the bravery of its generals. The tongue of eloquence 
never saved a nation tottering to its fall ; the sword of a warrior 
never stayed its destruction. There is a surer defence in every 
Christian home. I say Christian home, for I know of no glory 
to manhood which comes not from the cross. I know of no rights 
wrung from tyranny, no truth rescued from darkness and bigotry, 
which has not waited on a Christian civilization. 

Would you see the image of true glory, I would show you vil- 
lages w T here the crown and glory of the people was in Christian 
schools, where the voice of prayer goes heaven-ward, where the 
people have that most priceless gift — faith in God. With this 
as the basis, and leavened as it will be with brotherly love, there 
will be no danger in grappling with any evils which exist in our 
midst ; we shall feel that we may work and bide our time, and 
die knowing that God will bring victory. Bishop Whipple. 



438 THE UMON SPEAKER. 

CCCIX. 

OUR NATIONAL ANNIVERSARY. 

XTT'E celebrate to-day no idle tradition — the deeds of no 
fabulous race ; for we tread in the scarcely obliterated 
footsteps of an earnest and valiant generation of men, who dared 
to stake life, and fortune, and sacred honor, upon a declaration 
of rights, whose promulgation shook tyrants on their thrones, 
gave hope to fainting freedom, and reformed the political ethics 
of the world. 

The greatest heroes of former days have sought renown in 
schemes of conquest, based on the love of dominion or the thirst 
for war ; and such had been the worship of power in the minds of 
men, that adulation had ever followed in the wake of victory. 
How daring then the trial of an issue between a handful of op- 
pressed and outlawed colonists, basing their cause, under God, 
upon an appeal to the justice of mankind and their own few 
valiant arms. And how immeasurably great was he, the fearless 
commander, who, after the fortunes and triumphs of battle were 
over, scorned the thought of a regal throne for a home in the hearts 
of his countrymen. Amidst the rejoicings of this day, let us min- 
gle something of gratitude with our joy — something of reverence 
with our gratitude — and something of duty with our reverence. 

Let us cultivate personal independence in the spirit of loyalty 
to the Sate, and may God grant that we may always be able to 
maintain the sovereignty of the State in the spirit of integrity to 
the Union. Thus shall still be shed imperishable honors upon 
the American name — thus perpetuated, through all coming time, 
the heritage which has been bequeathed to us by our fathers. 
Whatever shall be the fate of other governments, ours thus sus- 
tained, shall stand forever. As has been elsewhere said, nation 
after nation may rise and fall, kingdoms and empires crumble 
into ruin, but our own native land, gathering energy and strength 
from the lapse of time, shall go on and still go on its destined 
way to greatness and renown. And when thrones shall crumble 
into dust, when sceptres and diadems shall have been forgotten, 
till Heaven's last thunder shall shake the world below, the flag 



RECENT SELECTIONS. 439 

of the republic shall still wave on, and its Stars, its Stripes, and 
its Eagle, shall still float in pride, and strength, and glory, 

" Whilst the earth bears a plant, 
Or the sea rolls a wave." A. E. Rice. 



CCCX. 
SOUTHERN USURPATIONS AND NORTHERN CONCESSIONS. 

"\XTHY did these Southerners make war upon the country, 
converting their own domain into a receptacle of stolen 
goods, and the hiding-place of mercenaries, murderers, and mad- 
men, and ours into one vast recruiting tent ? Tell me, you cow- 
ardly and traitorous Northmen, who talk about peace before the 
last armed foe has expired on the soil his attainted blood defiles, 
or of compromise, while yet the walls of our hospitals resound 
with the groans of the mangled, and are damp with the death- 
dew of the expiring ? Tell me, you traitors, Davis, Pickens, 
Stephens, and Floyd? what do you say provoked you to the 
point where forbearance ceased to be a virtue ? What had we 
of the North usurped that belonged to you ? I inquire not now 
of what some among us may have said. I challenge any act of 
usurpation by the non-slaveholding States against your rights as 
members of the confederacy. Facts are incontrovertible. What 
had we done ? What provision of the Federal Constitution had 
we violated ? For once lay aside your declamation and abuse, 
and soberly and truthfully state your grievances. 

You know, and we know, and the world knows, that we made 
no encroachment upon your reserved rights as a party to the 
compact between your fathers and ours. You know, also, that 
we have been so terrified at your reiterated threats against the 
family peace and general welfare, that, in our anxiety to preserve 
national concord, we have sacrificed personal honor and State 
pride. You called us " mudsills " and " greasy mechanics," 
until labor almost began to be ashamed of its God-given dignity. 
You beat our representatives in the national council chambers, 
because they expressed the views of those whom they served. 
You denied us freedom of speech in all your borders. This and 



440 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

much else, before the last burden, which broke our uncomplain- 
ing patience into active, and, as you are destined to learn, ter- 
rible resistance and deserved retribution. But what had we 
done ? How sinned against you ? In 1820 you wanted a 
geographical limit assigned to your peculiar institution, and we 
passed the law known as the Missouri Compromise. You got 
sick of this when it appeared that slavery would not be a gainer 
thereby, as it was supposed, and begged a repeal of the act. It 
was repealed. In 1850, you clamored for further legislation in 
favor of your "property in human beings, and the fugitive slave 
law was placed on the nation's statute book. You continually 
cried, " Give, give ! " and we gave. But nothing would satisfy 
your rapacity ; you had Tesolved to quarrel with us. Do you re- 
mind me that we did not return your .escaped slaves ? This is 
only half the truth. Whenever you came after your chattel, 
with legal proofs of ownership, we caught and caged him, and 
sent him back to. you, often at our own expense. If you did 
not think it worth your while to hunt up your runaway, it was 
none of our concern. Sometimes a man among us, more of a 
humanitarian than a jurisconsult, and better versed in the law 
of nature than the law of the land, illegally, but conscientiously, 
aided your bondman to escape. John Brown did so, and you 
hanged him for it ! But no State, as such, and no authority 
within a State, ever hesitated or refused to fulfil its constitu- 
tional obligations to you on this head. But you did not mean 
to be satisfied. You meant to rebel. You have rebelled, and 
you must abide the consequences. r. Busteed. 



cccxi. 

MONUMENTAL HONORS TO PUBLIC BENEFACTORS. 

"ITTH AT parent, as he conducts his son to Mount Auburn or 
" to Bunker Hill, will not, as he pauses before their monu- 
mental statues, seek to heighten his reverence for virtue, for 
patriotism, for science, for learning, for devotion to the public 
good, as he bids him contemplate the form of that grave and 
venerable Winthrop, who left his pleasant home in England to 



RECENT SELECTIONS. 441 

come and found a new republic in this untrodden wilderness ; of 
that ardent and intrepid Otis, who first struck out the spark of 
American independence ; of that noble Adams, its most eloquent 
champion on the floor of Congress ; of that martyr Warren, who 
laid down his life in its defence ; of that self-taught Bowditch, 
who, without a guide, threaded the starry mazes of the heavens ; 
of that Story, honored at home and abroad as one of the brightest 
luminaries of the law, and, by a felicity of which I believe there 
is no other example, admirably portrayed in marble by his son ? 
"What citizen of Boston, as he accompanies the stranger around 
our streets, guiding him through our busy thoroughfares, to our 
wharves, crowded with vessels which range every sea and gather 
the produce of every climate, up to the dome of this capitol, 
which commands as lovely a landscape as can delight the eye or 
gladden the heart, will not, as he calls his attention at last to the 
statues of Franklin and Webster, exclaim : — " Boston takes 
pride in her natural position, she rejoices in her beautiful envi- 
rons, she is grateful for her material prosperity ; but richer than 
the merchandise stored in palatial warehouses, greener than the 
slopes of sea-girt islets, lovelier than this encircling panorama of 
land and sea, of field and hamlet, of lake and stream, of garden 
and grove, is the memory of her sons, native and adopted ; the 
character, services and fame of those who have benefited and 
adorned their day and generation. Our children, and the schools 
at which they are trained, our citizens, and the services they 
have rendered : — these are our monuments, these are our jew- 
els, these our abiding treasures." e. Everett. 



cccxn. 
THE CRIME OF THE REBELLION. 

J" CALL the war which the Confederates are waging against 
"■■ the Union a " Rebellion," because it is one, and in grave 
matters it is best to call things by their right names. I speak 
of it as a crime, because the Constitution of the United States so 
regards it, and puts " rebellion " on a par with " invasion." The 
Constitution and law not only of England, but of every civilized 



142 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

country, regard them in the same light ; or rather they consider 
the rebel in arms as far worse than the alien enemy. To levy 
war against the United States is the constitutional definition of 
treason, and that crime is, by every civilized government, re- 
garded as the highest which citizen or subject can commit. Not 
content with the sanctions of human justice, of all the crimes 
against the law of the land it is singled out for the denunciations 
of religion. The litanies of every church in Christendom, as far 
as I am aware, from the metropolitan cathedrals of Europe to 
the humblest missionary chapel in the islands of the sea, concur 
with the Church of England in imploring the Sovereign of the 
universe, by the most awful adjurations which the heart of man 
can conceive or his tongue utter, to deliver us from " sedition, 
privy conspiracy, and rebellion." And reason good, — for while 
a rebellion against tyranny ; a rebellion designed, after prostrat- 
ing arbitrary power, to establish free government on the basis of 
justice and truth, is an enterprise on which good men and angels 
may look with complacency ; an unprovoked rebellion of ambi- 
tious men against a beneficent government, for the purpose — 
the avowed purpose — of establishing, extending, and perpetuat- 
ing any form of injustice and wrong, is an imitation on earth of 
that first foul revolt of " the Infernal Serpent," against which 
the Supreme Majesty of Heaven sent forth the armed myriads 
of his angels, and clothed the right arm of his Son with the 
three-bolted thunders of Omnipotence. 

Lord Bacon, " in the true marshalling of the sovereign degrees 
of honor," assigns the first place to "the Conditores Imperio- 
rum, founders of States and Commonwealths " ; and truly to 
build up from the discordant elements of our nature ; the pas- 
sions, the interests, and the opinions of the individual man ; the 
rivalries of family, clan, and tribe ; the influences of climate and 
geographical position ; the accidents of peace and war accumu- 
lated for ages, — to build up, from these oftentimes warring ele- 
ments, a well-compacted, prosperous and powerful State, if it 
were to be accomplished by one effort, or in one generation, 
would require a more than mortal skill. To contribute in some 
notable degree to this the greatest work of man, by wise and 
patriotic counsel in peace, and loyal heroism in war, is as high 
as human merit can well rise, and far more than to any of those 



RECENT SELECTIONS. 443 

to whom Bacon assigns this highest place of honor, whose names 
can hardly be repeated without a wondering smile, — Romulus, 
Cyrus, Caesar, Ottoman, Ismael, — is it due to our Washington, 
as the founder of the American Union. But if to achieve or 
help to achieve this greatest work of man's wisdom and virtue 
gives title to a place among the chief benefactors, rightful heirs 
of the benedictions, of mankind, by equal reason shall the bold 
bad men who seek to undo the noble work, — Eversores Imperi- 
orum, destroyers of States, — who for base and selfish ends rebel 
against beneficent governments, seek to overturn wise constitu- 
tions, to lay powerful republican unions at the foot of foreign 
thrones, bring on civil and foreign war, anarchy at home, dicta- 
tion abroad, desolation, ruin, — by equal reason, I say, yes a 
thousand fold stronger, shall they inherit the execrations of ages. 

E. Everett. 



CCCXIII. 
A TRIBUTE TO OUR HONORED DEAD. 

"trOW bright are the honors which await those who with 
**--*- sacred fortitude and patriotic patience have endured all 
things that they might save their native land from division and 
from the power of corruption. The honored dead ! They that 
die for a good cause are redeemed from death. Their names are 
gathered and garnered. Their memory is precious. Each place 
grows proud for them who were born there. There is to be, 
ere long, in every village, and in every neighborhood, a glowing 
pride in its martyred heroes. Tablets shall preserve their 
names. Pious love shall renew their inscriptions as time and 
the unfeeling elements efface them. And the national festivals 
shall give multitudes of precious names to the orator's lips. 
Children shall grow up under more sacred inspirations, whose 
elder brothers dying nobly for their country, left a name that 
honored and inspired all who bore it. Orphan children shall find 
thousands of fathers and mothers to love and help those whom 
dying heroes left as a legacy to the gratitude of the public. 

Oh, tell me not that they are dead — that generous host, that 
airy army of invisible heroes. They hover as a cloud of wit- 



444 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

nesses above this nation. Are they dead that yet speak louder 
than we can speak, and a more universal language ? Are they 
dead that yet act ? Are they dead that yet move upon society, 
and inspire the people with nobler motives and more heroic 
patriotism ? 

Ye that mourn, let gladness mingle with your tears. It was 
your son : but now he is the nation's. He made your household 
bright : now his example inspires a thousand households. Dear 
to his brothers and sisters, he is now brother to every generous 
youth in the land. Before, he was narrowed, appropriated, shut 
up to you. Now he is augmented, set free, and given to all. 
Before he was yours : he is ours. He has died from the family 
that he might live to the nation. Not one name shall be forgot- 
ten or neglected: and it shall by-and-by be confessed of our 
modern heroes, as it is of an ancient hero, that he did more for 
his country by his death than by his whole life. 

Neither are they less- honored who shall bear through life the 
marks of wounds and sufferings. Neither epaulette nor badge 
is so honorable as wounds received in a good cause. Many a 
man shall envy him who henceforth limps. So strange is the 
transforming power of patriotic ardor, that men shall almost covet 
disfigurement. Crowds will give way to hobbling cripples, and un- 
cover in the presence of feebleness and helpnessness. And buo} 7 '- 
ant children shall pause in their noisy games, and with loving rev- 
erence honor them whose hands can work no more, and whose feet 
are no longer able to march except upon that journey which 
brings good men to honor and immortality. Oh, mother of lost 
children ! set not in darkness nor sorrow whom a nation honors. 
Oh, mourners of the early dead, they shall live again, and live 
forever. Your sorrows are our gladness. The nation lives be- 
cause you gave it men that love it better than their own lives. 
And when a few more days shall have cleared the perils from 
around the nation's brow, and she shall sit in unsullied garments 
of liberty, with justice upon her forehead, love in her eyes, and 
truth upon her lips, she shall not forget those whose blood gave 
vital currents to her heart, and whose life, given to her, shall 
live with her life till time shall be no more. 

Every mountain and hill shall have its treasured name, every 
river shall keep some solemn title, every valley and every lake 



RECENT SELECTIONS. 445 

shall cherish its honored register ; and till the mountains are 
worn out, and the rivers forget to flow, till the clouds are weary 
of replenishing springs, and the springs forget to gush, and the 
rills to sing, shall their names be kept fresh with reverent honors 
which are inscribed upon the book of National Remembrance. 

//. W. Beecher. 



cccxrv. 
ON THE CONFISCATION BILL. 

T7EW of those engaged in this rebellion will ever be made to 
"^ suffer in their persons ; and if they are to be left in the full 
possession and enjoyment of their cotton, their lands,, and their 
negroes, the innocent will have been made to suffer while the 
guilty will go unpunished. Shall the fathers of the gallant sons 
whose mangled bodies have been borne back to Illinois by hun- 
dreds, from the bloody fields of Belmont, of Donelson, and Pea 
Ridge, be ground down by onerous taxes, which shall descend 
upon their children to the third and fourth generations, to defray 
the expenses of defending the Government against traitors, and 
we forbear to touch even the property of the authors of these 
calamities, whose persons are beyond our reach ? Suppose ye 
that the loyal people of this country will submit to such injustice ? 
I believe I represent as loyal, as patriotic, and as brave a con- 
stituency as any other Senator. I claim nothing more. While 
I am proud of the part which the soldiers of my own State took 
in defeating the enemy in the West, I do not claim for them any 
superiority over the other soldiers of the Republic. The brave 
men who besieged Donelson, and who, after fighting through the 
day for three consecutive days, lay each night on the ground 
without shelter, exposed to the rain and sleet, were chiefly Illi- 
noisans. It was there that rebellion received the heavy blow 
which has staggered it ever since. Forty dead bodies were 
borne from that bloody field to one small town in my State, and 
buried in a common grave. The Union forces at Pea Ridge 
were also largely made up of soldiers from Illinois. Suppose ye 
that I can go back to Illinois, among the relatives of those who 
have been cruelly destroyed, and propose to levy taxes upon 
them in order to conciliate and compensate the murderers, for 



446 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

that is really what exempting rebel property from confiscation 
amounts to ? Sir, I know not if they would submit to such 
injustice ; and yet there are those who not only talk of an 
amnesty to the men who have brought these troubles upon the 
country, but oppose providing the mild punishment of confisca- 
tion of property for those who shall continue hereafter to war 
upon the Government, and whose persons are beyond our reach. 
Do gentlemen regard it as conciliatory to oblige us to lay taxes 
upon those whose habitations have been consumed, to reward 
those who have burned them ? upon those whose whole prop- 
erty has been stolen, to reward the thieves ? upon those whose 
relatives have been slain, to compensate the murderers? In 
my judgment, justice, humanity, and mercy herself all demand 
that we at once provide that the supporters of this cruel and 
wicked rebellion should henceforth be made to feel its burdens. 
"When the rebels, whose hands are dripping with the blood of 
loyal citizens, shall have grounded their arms, it will be time 
enough to talk of clemency ; but to have our sympathies ex- 
cited in their behalf now, when fighting to overthrow the Gov- 
ernment, is cruelty to the loyal men who have rallied to its 
support. L. TrumbuU. 



cccxv. 

THE CRITTENDEN COMPROMISE. 

Q IR, what are the remedies that are proposed for the present 
^ condition of things, and what have they been, from the begin- 
ning ? They have been propositions of compromise ; and Sena- 
tors have spoken of peace, and of the horrors of civil war ; and 
gentlemen who have contended for the right of the people of the 
Territories to regulate their own affairs, and who have been hor- 
rified at the idea of- a geographical line dividing free States from 
slave States, — free territory from slave territory, — and who 
have proclaimed that the great principle upon which the Revolu- 
tion was fought was that of the right of the people to govern 
themselves, and that it was a monstrous doctrine for Congress to 
interfere in any way with its own Territories, — these gentlemen 
come forward here with propositions to divide the country on a 
geographical line ; and not only that, but to establish slavery 



RECENT SELECTIONS. 447 

south of the line ; and they call this the Missouri Compromise ! 
The proposition known as the Crittenden Compromise is no more 
like the Missouri Compromise than is the government of Turkey 
like that of the United States. The Missouri Compromise was a 
law declaring that in all the territory which we had acquired 
from Louisiana, north of a certain line of latitude, slavery or 
involuntary servitude should never exist. But it said nothing 
about the establishment of slavery south of that line. It was a 
compromise made in order to admit Missouri into the Union as a 
slave State, in 1820. That was the consideration for the exclu- 
sion of slavery from all the country north of 36° 30'. Now, sir, 
I have no objection to the restoration of the Missouri Compro- 
mise as it stood in 1854, when the Kansas-Nebraska Bill re- 
pealed it. 

The proposition known as the Crittenden Compromise declares 
not only that " in the territory south of the said line of latitude, 
slavery of the African race is thereby recognized as existing, and 
shall not be interfered with by Congress ; " but it provides fur- 
ther, that, in the territory we shall hereafter acquire south of 
that line, slavery shall be recognized, and not interfered with 
by Congress ; but " shall be protected as property by all the 
departments of the territorial government during its continu- 
ance ; " so that, if we make acquisitions on the south of territo- 
ries now free, and where by the laws of the land the footsteps 
of slavery have never been, the moment we acquire jurisdiction 
over them, the moment the stars and stripes of the Republic 
float over those^ free territories, they carry with them African 
slavery, established beyond the power of Congress and beyond 
the power of any territorial legislature or of £he people, to 
keep it out : and we are told that this is the Missouri Com- 
promise ! 

Now, sir, why cannot we have peace, I ask, upon the com- 
promise measures of 1850 ? Why disturb them ? They were 
enacted by great men. They gave peace to the country. Why 
is it necessary now to overturn them ? Restore the old Missouri 
Compromise as it stood ; let us go back to the settlement made 
in 1850, and there let us stand. What more would Senators 
have ? The South were satisfied with that settlement. Have 
we disturbed it ? Are we proposing to disturb it ? Not at all. 



448 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

» 

You yourselves disturbed it, and brought these difficulties upon 
the country. 

I have always insisted that the people of the Northern States 
were in no manner responsible for slavery in the Southern States ; 
and why ? Because they had no power in regard to it. Each 
State has a right to manage its own domestic affairs. I will not 
interfere with it where I have no authority by the Constitution 
to interfere ; but I will never consent, the people of my State 
will never consent, the people of the great Northwest, numbering 
more in white population than all your Southern States together, 
never will consent by their act to establish African slavery any- 
where. No, sir ; I will never agree to put into the Constitution 
of the country a clause establishing or making perpetual slavery 
anywhere. No, sir ; no human being shall ever be made a slave 
by my vote. Not one single foot of God's soil shall ever be dedi- 
cated to African slavery by my act — never ! never ! 

L. TrumbulL 



CCCXVI. 
REPLY TO SENATOR BRECKINRIDGE. 

rjlHE Senator from Kentucky stands up here in opposition to 
what he sees is the overwhelming sentiment of the Senate, 
and utters reproof, malediction and prediction combined. I 
would ask him, sir, what would you have us to do now — a rebel 
army within twenty miles of us, advancing or threatening to 
advance to destroy your Government ? Will the Senator yield 
to rebellion ? Will he shrink from armed insurrection ? Will 
his State justify it ? Will its better public opinion allow it ? 
Shall we send a flag of truce ? What would he have ? Or 
would he conduct this war so feebly, that the whole world would 
smile at us in derision ? What would he have ? These speeches 
of his, sown broadcast over the land — w T hat clear, distinct mean- 
ing have they ? Are they not intended for disorganization in 
our very midst ? Are they not intended to dull our weapons ? 
Are they not intended to destroy our zeal ? Are they not in- 
tended to animate our enemies ? Sir, are they not words of 
brilliant, polished treason, even in the very Capitol of the Con- 
federacy ? 



RECENT SELECTIONS. 449 

What would have been thought if, in another Capitol, in 
another Republic, in a yet more martial age, a Senator as grave, 
not more eloquent or dignified than the Senator from Kentucky, 
yet with the Roman purple flying over his shoulders, had risen 
in his place, surrounded by all the illustrations of Roman glory, 
and declared that advancing Hannibal was just, and that Car- 
thage ought to be dealt with in terms of peace ? What would 
have been thought if, after the battle of Cannae, a Senator there 
had risen in his place and denounced every levy of the Roman 
people, every expenditure of its treasury, and every appeal to 
the old recollections and the old glories ? Sir, a Senator, him- 
self learned far more than myself in such lore, tells me, in a 
voice that I am glad is audible, that he would have been hurled 
from the Tarpeian Rock. It is a grand commentary upon the 
American Constitution that we permit these words to be uttered. 

I ask the Senator to recollect, too, what, save to send aid and 
comfort to the enemy, do these predictions of his amount to ? 
Every word thus uttered falls as a note of inspiration upon every 
Confederate ear. Every sound thus uttered is a word (and, 
falling from his lips, a mighty word,) of kindling and triumph 
to a foe that determines to advance. For me, I have no such 
word, as a Senator, to utter. For me, amid temporary defeat, 
disaster, disgrace, it seems that my duty calls me to utter 
another word, and that word is, bold, sudden, forward, deter- 
mined war, according to the laws of war, by armies, by military 
commanders clothed with full power, advancing with all the past 
glories of the Republic urging them on to conquest. I do not 
stop to consider whether it is subjugation or not. It is compul- 
sory obedience — not to my will ; not to yours, sir ; not to the 
will of any one man ; not to the will of any one State ; but com- 
pulsory obedience to the Constitution of the whole country. 

E. D. Baker. 

♦ 

cccxvn. 
EMANCIPATION— ITS NECESSITY AND JUSTICE. 

TT is a necessity that this war be speedily closed. By block- 
-*- ade it cannot be ; by battle it may be, but we risk the result 
upon the uncertainty whether the great General of this continent 

29 



450 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

be with the enemy or with us. I come, then, to emancipation. 
And, first, I ask my countrymen to proclaim emancipation to the 
slaves as a matter of necessity to ourselves ; for unless it be by 
accident, we are not to come out of this contest as one nation, 
except by emancipation. Confiscation of the property of the 
rebels may be necessary and just ; but it is not enough. It will 
not save us in " this rugged and awlul crisis." It is inadequate 
to meet the exigency in which the country is placed. We must 
have emancipation. The political salvation of the country de- 
mands it ; and it is inevitable. The time is approaching when 
emancipation must take place, and we have now, I think, only a 
choice of ways. Emancipation may be achieved by the slaves 
themselves ; it may be effected by the Government of the United 
States; it may come through the desperation of the slaveholding 
rebels themselves. But come it must. I say, then, let us, at 
the head of our armies, on the soil of South Carolina, proclaim 
freedom — freedom to all her slaves, and then enforce the 
proclamation as far and as fast as we have opportunity. Let 
the blow fall first on that State which first rebelled, as a warning 
and a penalty for her perfidy in this business, which began at the 
moment that her delegates penned their names to the Constitution. 

Next, Florida, impotent in her treachery, with less than a 
hundred and fifty thousand inhabitants, and with property not 
equal to that of a single ward in this city, and that purchased 
with the money of the people, — emancipate her slaves, and 
invite the refugees from slavery in the South, for the moment to 
assemble there, if they desire, and take possession of the soil. 

And next in this work of emancipation I name Texas, a State 
purchased by a costly war with Mexico, and which went out of 
the Union because she could not extend slavery in the Union. 
Let us teach her people that in the Union or out of the Union, 
slavery is not to be extended. Emancipate the slaves in Texas, 
and invite men from the army, invite men from the North, invite 
men from Ireland, invite men from Germany, — the friends of 
freedom, of every name and every nation, — bid them welcome 
to the millions of acres of fertile lands we shall there confiscate, 
and they will form a barrier of freemen, a wall of liberty, over 
which, or through which, or beneath which it will be impossible 
, for slavery to extend itself. 



RECENT SELECTIONS. 451 

These three States may be sufficient for warning, for refuge, 
and for security against the spread of slavery ; but I would have 
it distinctly understood, that by the next anniversary of the birth 
of the Father of his Country, we shall emancipate the slaves in 
all the disloyal and rebellious States if they do not previously 
return to their allegiance. 

But justice to the slaves, no less than necessity to us, demands 
emancipation. Certainly they have been subjected to a suffi- 
cient apprenticeship under slavery, through two centuries, to 
prepare them for freedom if ever they are to be prepared. I 
say, then, justice to the slave demands emancipation. Let us 
maintain the principles of the declaration of Independence. The 
fundamental difference on which the North and South have 
divided for thirty years is on that part of the Declaration which 
says " All men are created equal." They have denied it ; we 
have undertaken to maintain it. Jefferson meant, when he 
penned that immortal truth, not that men are equal physically, 
intellectually, or morally, but that no one is born under any 
political subserviency to his fellow man. Let us maintain the 
doctrine now. These slaves are men ; Jefferson did not hesitate 
to call them " brethren." The declaration concerning the equal- 
ity of men applies to them as to us ; and now that in the progress 
of events the South has relieved us from responsibility in regard 
to eleven disloyal States, let us stand forth as a nation in our 
original strength and purity, maintaining the ideas to which our 
fathers gave utterance. That we may have ground on which to 
stand and defend ourselves in this contest, let us declare in the 
presence of these slaveholders and rebels, in the presence of 
Europe, that we proclaim the equality op all men. 

G. S. BoutwelL 



cccxvni. 
TEE RECONSTRUCTION OF LOUISIANA. 

'ly/TR. PRESIDENT and Fellow-citizens — At the request 
-*"-*■ of the Committee of Arrangements, I am present as a 
spectator, to witness the imposing and grand ceremonies of this 
interesting occasion, and reluctantly to express in words my 
great gratification at the progress that has been made in the 



452 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

restoration of Louisiana to the Union of States, and in the majes- 
tic evidence before me of the returning loyalty of its people. 

I have watched with the deepest interest the momentous events 
in the struggle through which we are passing, from its inception 
to the present hour. In common with the mass of my country- 
men I have sorrowed at reverses, and rejoiced in victories. I 
have mourned over the heroes who have fallen on the field of 
battle — my brothers in blood, my brothers in arms — and have 
joined in the honors which a grateful people have showered 
upon the gallant spirits who upon the sea and upon the land have 
led our hosts to victory. They never can be forgotten. Day 
by day and hour by hour, I have observed the receding armies 
of the enemy, until more than half the territory covered by the 
shadow of the rebel flag at the beginning of the war, has fallen 
into the possession of the Government, and is covered by the 
Stars and Stripes — the emblem of Liberty, now and forever, 
here and everywhere. 

We have, indeed, enough to rejoice our hearts in the progress 
of our armies, and to give joy to the festivities of this glad hour, — 

" But much remains 
To conquer still. Peace hath her victories 
No less renowned than war." 

In order to maintain the ground we have recovered with such 
terrible sacrifice of precious life, and to enable the gallant leaders 
and heroic men of our armies to retire to the walks of civil life 
again, it is necessary that civil institutions of government should 
be reestablished, and a new, subdued, yet patriotic spirit, like 
that which held 

" The helm of Rome, when robes, not arms, 
Repelled the fierce Epirote and the bold African," 

should animate our people and restore the pristine purity and 
power of the nation. 

Louisiana has not been faithless to her duties, nor is she now, 
nor will she be in the future. Among the truest spirits in the 
hour of trial were her sons and her daughters. Among the 
bravest and truest upon the field of battle have been her volun- 
teers. She was the first in this great revolution of ideas rather 



RECENT SELECTIONS. 453 

than arms, to organize her public schools upon a war footing, 
and infuse into the uncorrupted hearts of their pupils this new 
sentiment of nationality, by the daily repetition, with the morning 
prayers, of the magnificent anthems of American liberty. She 
was the first to institute the system of compensated labor, that 
makes the restoration of the institution of slavery on this conti- 
nent impossible — that compels us to prepare for the elevation 
of the oppressed race among us, and the ultimate recognition of 
all their rights. She is the first in this revolution of ideas to 
give to the social element of the people a national interest and a 
national spirit in the great drama of life through which we are 
passing. And here, to-day, with this splendid pageant — here, 
to-day, at the inauguration which consummates an election by 
the people of more than ordinary purity and of unrestricted free- 
dom — here, to-day she is to recognize, as a national sentiment 
for the new age and the new history, the doctrine that Union 
and Liberty, now and forever, mast be, and will be, one and insep- 
arable. 

In proportion to the confidence with which the people of the 
American continent shall view the results of this day's history) 
so will arise, in all parts of our land, a cry of joy as of a people 
liberated from the bondage of slavery and death. And from the 
hearthstone and the altar will arise the prayer of the good and 
wise, that this first gleam of light will prove a joyful harbinger 
of a perpetual day of peace, prosperity, and power. 

N. P. Banks. 



CCCXIX. 
THE BIBLE — ITS INFLUENCE. 
rpHIS Book has taken such a hold on the world as no other. 
"*~ The literature of Greece, which goes up like incense from 
that land of temples and heroic deeds, has not half the influence 
of this Book from a nation alike despised in ancient and modern 
times. It is read of a Sunday in all the thirty thousand pulpits 
of our land. In all the temples of Christendom is its voice lifted 
up, week by week. The sun never sets on its gleaming page. 
It goes equally to the cottage of the plain man and the palace of 
the king. It is woven into the literature of the scholar, and 
colors the talk of the street. The bark of the merchant cannot 



454 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

sail the - sea without it ; no ship of war goes to the conflict but 
the Bible is there ! It enters men's closets ; mingles in all the 
grief and cheerfulness of life. The affianced maiden prays God 
in Scripture for strength in her new duties ; men are married 
by Scripture. The Bible attends them in their sickness ; when 
the fever of the world is on them, the aching head finds a softer 
pillow if such leaves lie underneath. The mariner, escaping 
from shipwreck, clutches this first of his treasures, and keeps it 
sacred to God. It goes with the peddler, in his crowded pack ; 
cheers him at eventide, when he sits down dusty and fatigued ; 
brightens the freshness of his morning face. It blesses us when 
we are born ; gives names to half Christendom ; rejoices with 
us ; has sympathy for our mourning ; tempers our grief to finer 
issues. It is the better part of our sermons. It lifts man above 
himself ; our best of uttered prayers are its storied speech, where- 
with our fathers and the patriarchs prayed. 

The timid man, about awaking from this dream of life, looks 
through the glass of Scripture and his eye grows bright ; he does 
not fear to stand alone, to tread the way unknown and dis- 
tant, to take the death-angel by the hand, and bid farewell to 
wife, and babes, and home. Men rest on this their dearest hopes. 
It tells them of God, and of his blessed Son ; of earthly duties 
and of heavenly rest. Foolish men find it the source of Plato's 
wisdom, and the science of Newton, and the art of Raphael ; 
wicked men use it to rivet the fetters of the slave. Men who 
believe nothing else that is Spiritual, believe the Bible all 
through ; without this they would not confess, say they, even 
that there was a God. t. Parker. 



cccxx. 
THE BIBLE— ITS DEEP AND LASTING POWER. 

T?OR this deep and lasting power of the Bible there must be 
-*- an adequate cause. That nothing comes of nothing is true 
all the world over. It is no light thing to hold, with an electric, 
chain, a thousand hearts, though but an hour, beating and bound- 
ing with such fiery speed. What is it then to hold the Christian 
world, and that for centuries ? Are men fed with chaff and 



RECENT SELECTIONS. 455 

husks ? The authors we reckon great, whose word is in the 
newspaper, and the market-place, whose articulate breath now 
sways the nation's mind, — will soon pass away, giving place to 
other great men of a season, who in their turn shall follow them 
to eminence and then to oblivion. Some thousand " famous 
writers " come up in this century, to be forgotten in the next. 
But the silver cord of the Bible is not loosed, nor its golden 
bowl broken, as Time chronicles its tens of centuries passed by. 
Has the human race gone mad ? Time sits as a refiner of metal ; 
the dross is piled in forgotten heaps, but the pure gold is reserved 
for use, passes into the ages, and is current a thousand years 
hence as well as to-day. It is only real merit that can long pass 
for such. Tinsel will rust in the storms of life. False weights 
are soon detected there. It is only a heart that can speak, deep 
and true, to a heart ; a mind to a mind ; a soul to a soul ; wis- 
dom to the wise, and religion to the pious. There must then be 
in the Bible, mind, conscience, heart and soul, wisdom and relig- 
ion. Were it otherwise, how could millions find it in their law- 
giver, friend, and prophet? Some of the greatest of human 
institutions seem built on the Bible ; such things will not stand 
on heaps of chaff but on mountains of rocks. 

T. Parker. 



CCCXXI. 
SUPPORT OF THE GOVERNMENT BY FORCE. 

TT^HAT we have to do is clear. The dictate of wisdom, the 
impulse of patriotism, the instinct of safety and preserva- 
tion, the lessons of the past, the hopes of the future, all bid us 
uphold the constitutional Government of the United States, and 
by the power of force — a power which, of necessity, underlies 
all government — carry it triumphantly through this conflict, till 
its legitimate results are attained. Upon this power of force, 
the conspirators against this Government have relied from the 
beginning. They have expected to appeal to it, as is evident 
from the extent to which the Northern forts, arsenals, and people 
have been robbed of arms and munitions of war, which, dur- 
ing the last administration, were sent into the Southern States 
in numbers altogether disproportionate to their population, and 



456 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

unauthorized by law. If they believed in the right of peaceable 
secession from the Government of the United States, as a right 
clearly admitted and secured by the Constitution, it is strange 
that they should have made such far-sighted preparations to 
maintain this right by forcible resistance to its authority. To 
this power, these conspirators and those whom they had beguiled 
from their allegiance, made a direct appeal when they fired their 
first shot upon Fort Sumter. This appeal, the United States 
Government is compelled to meet, and by the strong arm of its 
military power, at the point of the bayonet, and beneath the 
smoke and blaze of its guns, enforce the obedience which reason, 
if it had not been dethroned, would never have refused, and 
recover the allegiance w T hich patriotism, if it had not been de- 
ceived and bewildered, would never have relinquished. In this 
case, it is not the Government that inaugurates civil war, but 
the men who, by treason and rebellion, are seeking to overturn 
it ; and for this gigantic crime, — the crime of disturbing the 
peace of thirty millions of people, of attempting to dismember a 
Union fraught with manifest advantages to all embraced in it, 
and to overturn, by force, a Government benignant in its sway, 
and mighty in its protection, its benefits, and its blessings, — for 
this crime they have no justification. 

Under civil institutions, republican and representative in their 
character, where there are legitimate, constitutional channels 
provided for the expression of the popular will, through which 
the Government can be modified, its organic or its statute laws 
reached, altered, amended, so as to meet the wishes of the ma- 
jority, or protect the rights of a minority, there can be no justi- 
fication of rebellion that will stand before the world, or secure a 
verdict of approval from the pen of impartial history. If we 
would secure for ourselves that approval, let us stand by this 
constitutional Government of the United States, and at whatever 
cost, carry it through to the legitimate results of this conflict. 

8. K. Lothrop. 



BOOK SECOND 



RECENT SELECTIONS, 

POETRY. 



CCCXXII. 
OUR COUNTRY'S CALL. 

■T AY down the axe, fling by the spade : 
-^ Leave in its track the toiling plough ; 
The rifle and the bayonet-blade 

For arms like yours were fitter now ; 
And let the hands that ply the pen 

Quit the light task, and learn to wield 
The horseman's crooked brand, and rein 

The charger on the battle-field. 

Our country calls ; away ! away ! 

To where the blood-stream blots the green, 
Strike to defend the gentlest sway 

That Time in all his course has seen. 
See, from a thousand coverts — see 

Spring the armed foes that haunt her track ; 
They rush to smite her down, and we 

Must beat the banded traitors back. 

Ho ! sturdy as the oaks ye cleave, 
And moved as soon to fear and flight, 

Men of the glade and forest ! leave 
Your woodcraft for the field of fight. 

The arms that wield the axe must pour 
An iron tempest on the foe ; 



458 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

His serried ranks shall reel before 
The arm that lays the panther low. 

And ye who breast the mountain storm 

By grassy steep or highland lake, 
Come, for the land ye love, to form 

A bulwark that no foe can break. 
Stand, like your own gray cliffs that mock 

The whirlwind ; stand in her defence : 
The blast as soon shall move the rock 

As rushing squadrons bear ye thence. 

And ye, whose homes are by her grand 

Swift rivers, rising far away, 
Come from the depth of her green land 

As mighty in your march as they ; 
As terrible as when the rains 

Have swelled them over bank and bourn, 
With sudden floods to drown the plains 

And sweep along the woods uptorn. 

And ye who throng, beside the deep, 

Her ports and hamlets of the strand, 
In number like the waves that leap 

On his long murmuring marge of sand, 
Come, like that deep, when, o'er his brim, 

He rises, all his floods to pour, 
And flings the proudest barks that swim, 

A helpless wreck against the shore. 

Few, few were they whose swords, of old, 

Won the fair land in which we dwell ; 
But we are many, we who hold 

The grim resolve to guard it well. 
Strike for that broad and goodly land, 

Blow after blow, till men shall see 
That Might and Right move hand in hand, 

And glorious must their triumph be. 

W. C. Bryant. 



RECENT SELECTIONS. 459 



cccxxni. 

NOT YET. 
• 
r\ COUNTRY, marvel of the earth ! 
^-^ O realm to sudden greatness grown ! 
The age that gloried in thy birth, 

Shall it behold thee overthrown ? 
Shall traitors lay that greatness low ? 
No, Land of Hope and Blessing, No ! 

And we who wear thy glorious name, 
Shall we, like cravens, stand apart, 

When those whom thou hast trusted, aim 
The death-blow at thy generous heart ? 

Forth goes the battle-cry, and lo ! 

Hosts rise in harness, shouting, No ! 

And they who founded, in our land, 
The power that rules from sea to sea, 

Bled they in vain, or vainly planned 
To leave their country great and free ? 

Their sleeping ashes, from below, 

Send up the thrilling murmur. No ! 

Knit they the gentle ties which long 
These sister States were proud to wear, 

And forged the kindly links so strong 
For idle hands in sport to tear — 

For scornful hands aside to throw ? 

No, by our fathers' memories, No ! 

Our humming marts, our iron ways, 

Our wind-tossed woods on mountain crest, 

The hoarse Atlantic, with his bays, 
The calm, broad Ocean of the West, 

And Mississippi's torrent flow, 

And loud Niagara, answer, No ! 



460 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

Not yet the hour is nigh, when they 
Who deep in Eld's dim twilight sit, 

Earth's ancient kings, shall rise and say, 
" Proud country, welcome to the pit ! 

So soon art thou, like us, brought low ? " 

No, sullen group of shadows, No ! 

For now, behold the arm that gave 
The victory in our fathers' day, 

Strong as of old, to guard and save — 
That mighty arm which none can stay — 

On clouds above and fields below, 

Writes, in men's sight, the answer, No ! 



W. C. Bryant. 



CCCXXIV. 

THE AMERICAN FLAG. 

A T last, at last, each glowing star 
"^*~ In that pure field of heavenly blue, 
On every people shining far, 

Burns, to its utmost promise true. 

Hopes in our fathers' hearts that stirred, 
Justice, the seal of peace, long scorned, 

O perfect peace ! too long deferred, 
At last, at last, your day lias dawned. 

Your day has dawned, but many an hour 
Of storm and cloud, of doubt and tears, 

Across the eternal sky must lower, 
Before the glorious noon appears. 

And not for us that noontide glow : 
For us the strife and toil shall be ; 

But welcome toil, for now we know 
Our children shall that glory see. 



RECENT SELECTIONS. 461 



At last, at last, Stars and Stripes ! 

Touched in your birth by Freedom's flame, 
Your purifying lightning wipes 

Out from our history its shame. 

Stand to your faith, America ! 

Sad Europe listen to our call ! 
Up to your manhood, Africa ! 

That gracious flag floats over all. 

And when the hour seems dark with doom, 
Our sacred banner, lifted higher, 

Shall flash away the gathering gloom 
With inextinguishable fire. 

Pure as its white the future see ! 

Bright as its red is now the sky ! 
Fixed as its stars the faith shall be, 

That nerves our hands to do or die. 



G. W. Curtis. 



cccxxv. 
AM I FOR PEACE? TES. 

~CpOR the peace which rings out from the cannons' throat, 
-^ And the suasion of shot and shell, 
Till Rebellion's spirit is trampled down 
To the depths of its kindred hell. 

For the peace which shall follow the squadron's tramp, 

Where the brazen trumpets bray, 
And, drunk with the fury of storm and strife, 

The blood-red chargers neigh. 

For the peace which shall wash out the leprous stain 

Of our slavery — foul and grim, 
And shall sunder the fetters which creak and clank 

On the dowm-trodden dark man's limb. 



462 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

I will curse him as traitor, and false of heart, 
Who would shrink from the conflict now, 

And will stamp it, with blistering, burning brand, 
On his hideous, Cain-like brow. 

Out ! out of the way ! with your spurious peace, 
Which would make us Rebellion's slaves ; 

We will rescue our land from the traitorous grasp, 
Or cover it with our graves. 

Out ! out of the way ! with your knavish schemes ! 

You trembling and trading pack ! 
Crouch away in the dark, like a sneaking hound 

That its master has beaten back. 

You would barter the fruit of our fathers' blood, 

And sell out the Stripes and Stars, 
To purchase a place with Rebellion's votes, 

Or escape from Rebellion's scars. 

By the widow's wail, by the mother's tears, 

By the orphans who cry for bread, 
By our sons who fell, we will never yield 

Till Rebellion's soul is dead. 

Anonymous. 



CCCXXVI. 
TEE GREAT BELL ROLAND. 

rpOLL ! Roland, toll ! 
•*- In old St. Bavon's tower, 
At midnight hour, 
The great bell Roland spoke ! 
All souls that slept in Ghent awoke ! 
What meant the thunder stroke ? 
Why trembled wife and maid ? 
Why caught each man his blade ? 
Why echoed every street 



RECENT SELECTIONS. 463 

With tramp of thronging feet 

All flying to the city's wall ? 

It was the warning call 
That Freedom stood in peril of a foe ! 
And even timid hearts grew bold 
Whenever Roland tolled, 
And every hand a sword could hold ! 

So acted men 

Like patriots then, 
Three hundred years ago ! 

Toll ! Roland, toll ! 
Bell never yet was hung, 
Between whose lips there swung 
So grand a tongue ! 

If men be patriots still, 

At thy first sound 

True hearts will bound, 

Great souls will thrill ! 
Then toll and strike the test 
Through each man's breast, 
Till loyal hearts shall stand confess'd, — 
And may God's wrath smite all the rest ! 

Toll ! 'Roland, toll ! 
Not now in old St. Bavon's tower — 
Not now at midnight hour — 
Not now from River Scheldt to Zuyder Zee, 
But here, — this side the sea ! — 
Toll here, in broad, bright day ! — 
For not by night awaits 
A noble foe without the gates, 
But perjured friends within betray, 
And do the deed at noon ! 

Toll ! Roland, toll ! 
Thy sound is not too soon ! 
To Arms ! Ring out the Leader's call ! 
Reecho it from East to West, 
Till every hero's breast 



464 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

Shall swell beneath a soldiers crest ! 

Toll ! Roland, toll ! 
Till cottager from cottage wall 
Snatch pouch and powder-horn and gun ! 
The sire bequeathed them to the son, 
When only half their work was done ! 

Toll ! Roland, toll ! 
Till swords from scabbards leap ! 

Toll! Roland, toll! 
What tears can widows weep 
Less bitter than when brave men fall ? 

Toll ! Roland, toll ! 
In shadowed hut and hall 
Shall lie the soldier's pall, 
And hearts shall break while graves are filled ! 
Amen ! So God has willed ! 
And may his grace anoint us all ! 

Toll ! Roland, toll ! 
The Dragon on thy tower 
Stands sentry to this hour, 
And Freedom so stands safe in Ghent ! 
And the merrier bells now ring, 
And in the land's serene content 
Men shout, " God save the King ! " 

Until the skies are rent ! 
So let it be ; 
For a kingly king is he 
Who keeps his people free ! 

Toll ! Roland, toll ! 
Ring out across the sea ! 
No longer They but We 
Have now such need of thee ! 

Toll ! Roland, toll ! 
Nor ever may thy throat 
Keep dumb its warning note 
Till Freedom's perils be outbraved ! 

Toll ! Roland, toll ! 
Till Freedom's flag, wherever waved, 
Shall overshadow not a man enslaved ! 



RECENT SELECTIONS. 465 

Toll ! Roland, toll ! 
From Northern lake to Southern strand, 

Toll ! Roland, toll ! 
Till friend and foe, at thy command, 
Once more shall clasp each other's hand, 
And shout, one-voiced, " God save the land ! " 
And love the land that God hath saved ! 

Toll ! Roland, toll ! T. Tihon. 



cccxxvn. 
TEE MASSACHUSETTS LINE. 

O TILL first, as long and long ago, 
^ Let Massachusetts muster : 
Give her the post right next the foe ; 

Be sure that you may trust her. 
She was the first to give her blood 

For Freedom and for Honor ; 
She trod her soil to crimson mud : 

God's blessing be upon her ! 

She never faltered for the right, 

Nor ever will hereafter : 
Fling up her name with all your might ; 

Shake roof-tree and shake rafter. 
But of old deeds she need not brag, — 

How she broke sword and fetter : 
Fling out again the old striped Flag ; 

She '11 do yet more and better. 

In peace, her sails fleck all the seas ; 

Her mills shake every river ; 
And where are scenes so fair as these 

God and her true hands give her ? 
In war, her claim who seek to rob ? 

All others come in later : • 
It is hers first to front the Mob, 

The Tyrant, and the Traitor. 
30 



466 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

God bless, God bless, the glorious State ! 

Let her have way to battle ! 
She '11 go where batteries crash with fate, 

Or where thick rifles rattle. 
Give her the Right, and let her try ; 

And then who can may press her ; 
She '11 go straight on, or she will die : 

God bless her, and God bless her ! 

R. Lowell 



CCCXXVIII. 

ON THE SHORES OF TENNESSEE. 

H "VTOVE my arm-chair, faithful Pompey, 
"*--■• In the sunshine bright and strong, 
For this world is fading, Pompey — 

Massa won't be with you long ; 
And I fain would hear the south wind 

Bring once more the sound to me, 
Of the wavelets softly breaking 

On the shores of Tennessee. 

" Mournful though the ripples murmur, 

As they still the story tell, 
How no vessels float the banner 

That I 've loved so long and well, 
I shall listen to their music, 

Dreaming that again I see 
Stars and Stripes on sloop and shallop, 

Sailing up the Tennessee. 

" And, Pompey, while old massa 's waiting 

For death's last despatch to come, 
If that exiled starry banner 

Should come proudly sailing home, 
You shall greet it, slave no longer — 

Voice and hand shall both be free 
That shouts and points to Union colors 

On the waves of Tennessee." 



RECENT SELECTIONS. 467 

" Massa 's berry kind to Pompey ; 

But ole darkey 's happy here, 
Where he 's tended corn and cotton 

For 'ese many a long-gone year. 
Over yonder Missis 's sleeping — 

No one tends her grave like me ; 
Mebbie she would miss the flowers 

She used to love in Tennessee. 

" 'Pears like she was watching Massa — 

If Pompey should beside him stay, 
Mebbie she 'd remember better 

How for him she used to pray ; 
Telling him that way up yonder 

White as snow his soul would be, 
If he served the Lord of heaven 

While he lived in Tennessee." 

Silently the tears were rolling 

Down the poor old dusky face, 
As he stepped behind his master, 

In his long accustomed place. 
Then a, silence fell around them, 

As they gazed on rock and tree 
Pictured in the placid waters 

Of the rolling Tennessee. 

Master dreaming of the battle 

Where he fought by Marion's side, 
When he bid the haughty Tarleton 

Stoop his lordly crest of pride. 
Man, remembering how yon sleeper 

Once he held upon his knee, 
Ere she loved the gallant soldier, 

Ralph Vervair, of Tennessee. 

Still the south wind fondly lingers 
'Mid the veteran's silvery hair ; 
Still the bondman close beside him 



468 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

Stands behind the old arm-chair, 
With his dark-hued hand uplifted, 

Shading eyes he bends to see 
Where the woodland boldly jutting 

Turns aside the Tennessee. 

Thus he watches cloud-born shadows 

Glide from tree to mountain crest, 
Softly creeping, aye and ever, 

To the river's yielding breast. 
Ha ! above the foliage yonder 

Something flutters wild and free, ! 
" Massa ! Massa ! Hallelujah ! 

The flag 's come back to Tennessee ! " 

ft Pompey hold me on your shoulder, 
• Help me stand on foot once more, 
That I may salute the colors 

As they pass my cabin-door. 
Here 's the paper signed that frees you ; 

Give a freeman's shout with me — 
' God and Union ! ' be our watchword 

Evermore in Tennessee." 

Then the trembling voice grew fainter, 

And the limbs refused to stand ; 
One prayer to Jesus — and the soldier 

Glided to that better land. 
When the flag went down the river 

Man and master both were free, 
While the ringdove's note was mingled 

With the rippling Tennessee. 



E. L. Beers. 



CCCXXIX. 
A BATTLE-SONG FOR FREEDOM. 

TV/TEN of action ! men of might ! 
-*-"-*- Stern defenders of the right ! 
Are you girded for the fight ? 



RECENT SELECTIONS. 469 

Have you marked and trenched the ground, 
Where the din of arms must sound, 
Ere the victor can be crowned ? 

Have you guarded well the coast ? 
Have you marshalled all your host ? 
Standeth each man at his post ? 

Have you counted up the cost ? 
"What is gained and what is lost, 
When the foe your lines have crost ? 

Gained — the infamy of fame. 
Gained — a dastard's spotted name. 
Gained — eternity of shame. 

Lost — desert of manly youth. 
Lost — the right you had by birth. 
Lost — lost ! — Freedom for the earth. 

Freemen, up ! The foe is nearing ! 
Haughty banners high uprearing — 
Lo, their serried ranks appearing ! 

Freemen, on ! The drums are beating ! 
Will you shrink from such a meeting ? 
Forward I Give them hero greeting ! 

From your hearths, and homes, and altars, 
Backward hurl your proud assaulters. 
He is not a man that falters. 

Hush ! The hour of fate is nigh, 

On the help of God rely ! 

Forward ! We will do or die. g. Hamilton. 



470 THE UNIQN SPEAKER. 



cccxxx. 

THE VOICE OF THE NORTH. 

f TP the hill-side, down the glen, 
^ Rouse the sleeping citizen : 
Summon out the might of men ! 



Like a lion growling low — 
Like a night-storm rising slow - 
Like the tread of unseen foe — 



It is coming — it is nigh ! 
Stand your homes and altars by, 
On your own free threshold die. 

Clang the bells in all your spires, 
On the gray hills of your sires 
Fling to heaven your signal-fires. 

Oh ! for God and duty stand, 
Heart to heart and hand to hand, 
Round the old graves of the land. 

Whoso shrinks or falters now, 
Whoso to the yoke would bow, 
Brand the craven on his brow. 

Freedom's soil has only place 
For a free and fearless race — 
None for traitors false and base. 

Perish party — perish clan ; 
Strike together while you can, 
Like the strong arm of one man. 

Like the angel's voice sublime, 
Heard above a world of crime, 
Crying for the end of Time. 



RECENT SELECTIONS. 471 

With one heart and with one mouth, 

Let the North speak to the South ; 

Speak the word befitting both. j. g. Wldttkr. 



cccxxxi. 
THE WATCHERS. 

T3ESIDE a stricken field I stood ; 
- L ^ On the torn turf, on grass and wood, 
Hung heavily the dew of blood. 

Still in their fresh mounds lay the slain, 
But all the air was quick with pain 
And gusty sighs and tearful rain. 

Two angels, each with drooping head 
And folded wings and noiseless tread, 
Watched by that valley of the dead. 

The one with forehead saintly bland 
And lips of blessing, not command, 
Leaned, weeping, on her olive wand. 

The other's brows were scarred and knit, 
His restless eyes were watch-fires lit, 
His hands for battle-gauntlets fit. 

" How long ! " I knew the voice of Peace, — 
" Is there no respite ? — no release ? — 
When shall the hopeless quarrel cease ? 

" O Lord, how long ! — One human soul 
Is more than any parchment scroll, 
Or any nag thy winds unroll. 

" What price was Ellsworth's, young and brave ? 
How weigh the gift that Lyon gave, 
Or count the cost of Winthrop's grave ? 



472 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

" O brother ! if thine eye can see, 

Tell me how and when the end shall be, 

What hope remains for thee and me." 

Then Freedom sternly said : " I shun 
No strife nor pang beneath the sun, 
When human rights are staked and won. 

" I knelt with Ziska's hunted flock, 
I watched in Toussaint's cell of rock, 
I walked with Sidney to the block. 

" The Moor of Marston felt my tread, 
Through Jersey snows the march I led, 
My voice Magenta's charges sped. 

" But now, through weary day and night, 
I watch a vague and aimless fight 
For leave to strike one blow aright. 

" On either side my foe they own : 

One guards through love his ghastly throne, 

And one through fear to reverence grown. 

" Why wait we longer, mocked, betrayed, 

By open foes, or those afraid 

To speed thy coming through my aid ? 

" Why watch to see who win or fall ? — 

I shake the dust against them all, 

I leave them to their senseless brawl." 

" Nay," Peace implored : " yet longer wait ; 
The doom is near, the stake is great ; 
God knoweth if it be too late. 

" Still wait and watch ; the way prepare 
Where I with folded wings of prayer 
May follow, weaponless and bare." 



RECENT SELECTIONS. 473 

" Too late ! " the stern, sad voice replied, 
" Too late ! " its mournful echo sighed, — 
In low lament the answer died. 

A rustling as of wings in flight, 

An upward gleam of lessening white, 

So passed the vision, sound and sight. 

But round me, like a silver bell 
Rung down the listening sky to tell 
Of holy help, a sweet voice fell. 

" Still hope and trust," it sang ; " the rod 

Must fall,* the wine-press must be trod, 

But all is possible with God ! " j. g. Whittier. 



u 



cccxxxn. 
BARBARA FRIETCHIE. 

P from the meadows rich with corn, 
Clear in the cool September morn, 



The clustered spires of Frederick stand 
Green-walled by the hills of Maryland. 

Round about them orchards sweep, 
Apple and peach-tree fruited deep, 

Fair as a garden of the Lord 

To the eyes of the famished rebel horde, 

On that pleasant morn of the early fall 
When Lee marched over the mountain-walls 

Over the mountains winding down, 
Horse and foot, into Frederick town. 

Forty flags with their silver stars, 
Forty flags with their crimson bars, 



474 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

Flapped in the morning wind ; the sun 
Of noon looked down, and saw not one. 

Up rose old Barbara Frietchie then, 
Bowed with her fourscore years and ten ; 

Bravest of all in Frederick town, 

She took up the flag the men hauled down ; 

In her attic window the staff she set, 
To show that her heart was loyal yet. 

Up the street came the rebel tread, 
Stonewall Jackson riding ahead. 

Under his slouched hat left and right 
He glanced ; the old flag met his sight. 

" Halt ! " — the dust-brown ranks stood fast ; 
" Fire ! " — out blazed the rifle-blast. 

It shivered the window, pane and sash ; 
It rent the banner with seam and gash. 

Quick, as it fell, from the broken staff 
Dame Barbara snatched the silken scarf; 

She leaned far out on the window-sill, 
And shook it forth with a royal will. 

" Shoot, if you must, this old gray head, 
But spare your country's flag," she said. 

A shade of sadness, a blush of shame, 
Over the face of the leader came ; 

The nobler nature within him stirred 
To life at that woman's deed and word : 



RECENT SELECTIONS. 475 

" Who touches a hair of your gray head 
Dies like a dog ! March on ! " he said. 

All day long through Frederick street 
Sounded the tread of marching feet : 

All day long that free flag tossed 
Over the heads of the rebel host. 

Ever its torn folds rose and fell 

On the loyal winds that loved it well ; 

And through the hill-gaps sunset light 
Shone over it with a warm good-night. 

Barbara Frietchie's work is o'er, 

And the rebel rides on his raids no more. 

Honor to her ! and let a tear 

Fall, for her sake, on Stonewall's bier. 

Over Barbara Frietchie's grave 
Flag of Freedom and Union, wave ! 

Peace and order and beauty draw 

Round thy symbol of light and law ; % 



And ever the stars above look down 
On thy stars below in Frederick town ! 



J. G. Whiitier. 



cccxxxni. 

PRO P ATRIA. 

INSCRIBED TO THE SECOND NEW HAMPSHIRE REGIMENT. 

PT1HE grand old earth shakes at the tread of the Norsemen, 

Who meet, as of old, in defence of the true ; 
All hail to the stars that are set in their banner ! 



476 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

All hail to the red, and the white, and the blue ! 
As each column wheels by, 
Hear their hearts' battle-cry, — 
It was Warren's, — 'Tis sweet for our country to die ! 

Lancaster and Coos, Laconia and Concord, 

Old Portsmouth and Keene, send their stalwart young men ; 
They come from the plough, and the loom, and the anvil, 
From the marge of the sea, from the hill-top and glen. 
As each column wheels by, 
Hear their hearts' battle-cry, — 
It was Warren's, — 'Tis sweet for our country to die! 

The prayers of fair women, like legions of angels, 
Watch over our soldiers by day and by night ; 
And the King of all glory, the Chief of all armies, 
Shall love them and lead them who dare to do right ! 
As each column wheels by, 
Hear their tiearts' battle-cry, — 
'T was Warren's, — 'Tis sweet for our country to die / 

T. B. Aldrick. 



CCCXXXIV. 
THE CAVALRY CHARGE. 

"V^TITH bray of the trumpet 

And roll of the drum, 
And keen ring of bugle, 

The cavalry come. " 
Sharp clank the steel scabbards, 

The bridle-chains ring, 
And foam from red nostrils 

The wild chargers fling. 

Tramp ! tramp ! o'er the greensward 

That quivers below, 
Scarce held by the curb-bit 

The fierce horses go ! 



RECENT SELECTIONS. 477 

And the grim-visaged colonel, 

With ear-rending shout, 
Peals forth to the squadrons 

The order — " Trot out ! " 

One hand on the sabre, 

And one on the rein, 
The troopers move forward 

In line on the plain. 
As rings the word " Gallop ! " 

The steel scabbards clank, 
And each rowel is pressed 

To a horse's hot flank : 
And swift is their rush 

As the wild torrent's flow, 
When it pours from the crag 

On the valley below. 

" Charge ! " thunders the leader : 

Like shaft from the bow 
Each mad horse is hurled 

On the wavering foe. 
A thousand bright sabres 

Are gleaming in air ; 
A thousand dark horses 

Are dashed on the square. 

Resistless and reckless 

Of aught may betide, 
Like demons, not mortals, 

The wild troopers ride. 
Cut right ! and cut left ! — . 

For the parry who needs? 
The bayonets shiver 

Like wind-shattered reeds. 
Vain — vain the red volley 

That bursts from the square, — 
The random-shot bullets 

Are wasted in air. 



478 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

Triumphant, remorseless, 
Unerring as death, — 

No sabre that 's stainless 
Returns to its sheath. 



The wounds that are dealt 

By that murderous steel 
Will never yield case 

For the surgeon to heal. 
Hurrah ! they are broken — 

Hurrah ! boys, they fly — 
None linger save those 

Who but linger to die. 



Rein up your hot horses 

And call in your men, — 
The trumpet sounds " Rally 

To color " again. 
Some saddles are empty, 

Some comrades are slain, 
And some noble horses 

Like stark on the plain, 
But war 's a chance game, boys, 

And weeping is vain. p. A. Durivagt. 



cccxxxv. 
TEE CUMBERLAND. 

A T anchor in Hampton Roads we lay, 
*^" On. board of the Cumberland sloop-of-war ; 
And at times from the fortress across the bay 
The alarum of drums swept past, 
Or a bugle-blast 
From the camp on the shore. 

Then far away to the South uprose 
A little feather of snow-white smoke, 



RECENT SELECTIONS. 479 

And we knew that the iron ship of our foes 
"Was steadily steering its course 
To try the force 
Of our ribs of oak. 

I)own upon us heavily runs, 

Silent and sullen, the floating fort ; 
Then comes a puff of smoke from her guns, 
And leaps the terrible death, 
With fiery breath, 
From each open port. 

We are not idle, but send her straight 

Defiance back in a full broadside ! 
As hail rebounds from a roof of slate, 
Rebounds our heavier hail 
From each iron scale 
Of the monster's hide. 

" Strike your flag ! " the Rebel cries, 

In his arrogant old plantation strain. 
" Never I" our gallant Morris replies ; 
" It is better to sink than to yield ! " 
And the whole air pealed 
With the cheers of our men. 

Then, like a kraken huge and black, 

She crushed our ribs in her iron grasp ! 
Down went the Cumberland all a wrack, 
With a sudden shudder of death, 
And the cannon's breath 
For her dying gasp. 

Next morn as the sun rose over the bay, 

Still floated our flag at the main mast-head, 
Lord, how beautiful was Thy day ! 
Every waft of the air 
Was a whisper of prayer, 
Or a dirge for the dead. 



480 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

Ho ! brave hearts that went down in the seas ! 

Ye are at peace in the troubled stream. 
Ho ! brave land ! with hearts like these, 
Thy flag, that is rent in twain, 
Shall be one again, 
And without a seam ! H. W. Longfellow. 



CCCXXXVL 

UNITED STATES NATIONAL ANTHEM. 

OD of the Free ! upon Thy breath 



G 



Our Flag is for the Right unrolled, 
As broad and brave as when its stars 
First lit the hallowed time of old. 

For Duty still its folds shall fly ; 

For Honor still its glories burn, 
Where Truth, Religion, Valor, guard 

The patriot's sword and martyr's urn. 

No tyrant's impious step is ours ; 

No lust of power on nations rolled : 
Our Flag — for friends, a starry sky ; 

For traitors, storm in every fold. 

O thus we '11 keep our Nation's life, 
Nor fear the bolt by despots hurled ; 

The blood of all the world is here, 

And they who strike us strike the world ! 

God of the Free ! our Nation bless 
In its strong manhood as its birth ; 

And make its life a Star of Hope 
For all the struggling of the Earth. 



•co- 



Then shout beside thine Oak, O North ! 

O South! wave answer with thy Palm ; 
And in our Union's heritage 

Together sing the Nation's Psalm ! w. R. Wallace. 



RECENT SELECTIONS. 481 



CCCXXXVII. 

THE FISHERMAN OF BEAUFORT. 

HHHE tide comes up, and the tide goes down, 
And still the fisherman's boat, 

At early dawn and at evening shade, 
Is ever and ever afloat : 

His net goes down, and his net comes up, 
And we hear his song of glee : 

" De fishes dey hates de ole slave nets, 
But comes to de nets of de free." 

The tide comes up, and the tide goes down, 

And the oysterman below 
Is picking away, in the slimy sands, 

In the sands ob de long ago. 
But now if an empty hand he bears, 

He shudders no more with fear, 
There 's no stretching-board for the aching bones, 

And no lash of the overseer. 

The tide comes up, and the tide goes down, 

And ever I hear a song, 
As the moaning winds, through the moss-hung oaks, 

Sweep surging ever along : 
" O massa white man ! help de slave, 

And de wife and chillen too ; 
Eber dey '11 work, wid de hard worn hand 

Ef ell gib 'em de work to do." 

The tide comes up, and the tide goes go down, 

But it bides no tyrant's word, 
As it chants unceasing the anthem grand, 

Of its Freedom to the Lord. 
The fisherman floating on its breast 

Has caught up the key-note true : 
" De sea works, massa, for 't sef and God, 

And so must de brack man too." 
31 



482 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

Den gib him de work, and gib him de pay, 

For de chillen and wife him love ; 
And de yam shall grow, and de cotton shall blow, 

And him nebber, nebber rove ; 
For him love de ole Carlina State, 

And de ole magnolia-tree : 
Oh ! nebber him trouble de icy Norf, 

Ef de brack folks am go free." Mrs. F. D. Gage. 



cccxxxvm. 
TEE FLOWER OF LIBERTY. 

"T^THAT flower is this that greets the morn, 
Its hues from heaven so freshly born ? 

With burning star and flaming band 

It kindles all the sunset land ; — 

O, tell us what its name may be ! 

Is this the Flower of Liberty ? 
It is the banner of the free, 
The starry Flower of Liberty ! 

In savage Nature's far abode 
Its tender seed our fathers sowed ; 
The storm-winds rocked its swelling bud, 
Its opening leaves were streaked with blood, 
Till, lo ! earth's tyrants shook to see 
The full-bloAvn Flower of Liberty ! 
Then hail the banner of the free, 
The starry Flower of Liberty ! 

Behold its streaming rays unite 

One mingling flood of braided light, — 

The red that fires the Southern rose, 

With spotless white from Northern snows, 

And, spangled o'er its azure, see 

The sister Stars of Liberty ! 

Then hail the banner of the free, 
The starry Flower of Liberty ! 



RECENT SELECTIONS. 483 

The blades of heroes fence it round ; 
Where'er it springs is holy ground ; 
From tower and dome its glories spread ; 
It waves where lonely sentries tread ; 
It makes the land as ocean free, 
And plants an empire on the sea ! 

Then hail the banner of the free, 

The starry Flower of Liberty ! 

Thy sacred leaves, fair Freedom's flower, 
Shall ever float on dome and tower, 
To all their heavenly colors true, 
In blackening frost or crimson dew, — 
And God love us as we love thee, 
Thrice holy Flower of Liberty ! 

Then hail the banner of the free, 

The starry Flower of Liberty ! o. W. Holme* 



cccxxxix. 
AN APPEAL. 



T ISTEN, young heroes ! your country is calling ! 
"^ Time strikes the hour for the brave and the true ! 
Now, while the foremost are fighting and falling, 
Fill up the ranks that have opened for you ! 

You whom the fathers made free and defended, 
Stain not the scroll that emblazons their fame ! 

You whose fair heritage spotless descended, 
Leave not your children a birthright of shame ! 

Stay not for questions while Freedom stands gasping ! 

Wait not till Honor lies wrapped in his pall ! 
Brief the lips' meeting be, swift the hands' clasping, — 

" Off for the Wars ! " is enough for them all. 

Break from the arms that would fondly caress you ! 
Hark ! 't is the bugle-blast, sabres are drawn ! 



484 THE UNION SPEAKER.' 

Mothers shall pray for you, fathers shall bless you, 
Maidens shall weep for you when you are gone ! 

Never or now ! cries the blood of a nation, 

Poured on the turf where the red rose should bloom ; 

Now is the day and the hour of salvation, — 
Never or now ! peals the trumpet of doom ! 

Never or now ! roars the hoarse-throated cannon 
Through the black canopy blotting the skies ; 

Never or now ! flaps the shell-blasted pennon 
O'er the deep ooze where the Cumberland lies ! 

From the foul dens where our brothers are dying, 
Aliens and foes in the land of their birth, — 

From the rank swamps where our martyrs are lying 
Pleading in vain for a handful of earth, — 

From the hot plains where they perish outnumbered, 
Furrowed and ridged by the battle-field's plough, 

Comes the loud summons ; too long you have slumbered, 
Hear the last Angel-trump — Never or Now ! 

0. W. Holmes. 



CCCXL. 
THE LAST CHARGE. 

"VTOW, men of the North ! will you join in the strife 

For country, for freedom, for honor, for life ? 
The giant grows blind in his fury and sj)ite, — 
One blow on his forehead will settle the fight ! 

Flash full in his eyes the blue lightning of steel, 
And stun him with cannon-bolts peal upon peal ! 
Mount, troopers, and follow your game to its lair, 
As the hound tracks the wolf and the beagle the hare ! 

Blow, trumpets, your summons, till sluggards awake ! 
Beat, drums, till the roofs of the fainthearted shake ! 



RECENT SELECTIONS. 485 

Yet, yet, ere the signet is stamped on the scroll, 

Their names may be traced on the blood-sprinkled roll ! 

Trust not the false herald that painted your shield : 
True honor to-day must be sought on the field ! 
Her scutcheon shows white with a blazon of red, — 
The life-drops of crimson for liberty shed ! 

The hour is at hand, and the moment draws nigh ! 
The dog-star of treason grows dim in the sky ! 
Shine forth from the battle-cloud, light of the morn, 
Call back the bright hour when the Nation was born ! 

The rivers of peace through our valleys shall run, 

As the glaciers of tyranny melt in the sun ; 

Smite, smite the proud parricide down from his throne, — 

His sceptre once broken, the world is our own ! 

0. W. Holmes. 



CCCXLI. 
VOYAGE OF THE GOOD SHIP UNION. 

'HPIS midnight : through my troubled dream 

Loud wails the tempest's cry ; 
Before the gale, with tattered sail, 

A ship goes plunging by. 
What name ? Where bound ? The rocks around 

Repeat the loud halloo. 
- The good ship Union, Southward bound : 

God help her and her crew ! 

And is the old flag flying still 

That o'er your fathers flew, 
With bands of white and rosy light, 

And field of starry blue ? 
-Ay ! look aloft ! its folds full oft 

Have braved the roaring blast, 
And still shall fly when from the sky 

This black typhoon has past ! 



486 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

Speak, pilot of the storm-tost bark ! 
May I thy peril share ? 

— O landsman, these are fearful seas 

The brave alone may dare ! 

— Nay, ruler of the rebel deep, 

What matters wind or wave ? 
The rocks that wreck your reeling deck 
Will leave me nought to save ! 

O landsman, art thou false or true ? 
What sign hast thou to show ? 

— The crimson stains from loyal veins 

That hold my heart-blood's flow ! 

— Enough ! what more shall honor claim ? 

I know the sacred sign ; 
Above thy head our flag shall spread ! 
Our ocean path be thine ! 

The bark sails on ; the Pilgrim's cape 

Lies low along her lee, 
Whose headland crooks its anchor-flukes 

To lock the shore and sea. 
No treason here ! it cost too dear 

To win this barren realm ! 
And true and free the hands must be 

That hold the whaler's helm. 

Still on ! Manhattan's narrowing bay 

No Rebel cruiser scars ; 
Her waters feel no pirate's keel 

That flaunts the fallen stars ! 

— But watch the light on yonder height, — 

Ay, pilot, have a care ! 
Some lingering cloud in mist may shroud 
The capes of Delaware ! 

Say, pilot, what this fort may be, 

Whose sentinels look down 
From moated walls that show the sea 



RECENT SELECTIONS. 487 

Their deep embrasures' frown ? 
The Rebel host claims all the coast, 

But these are friends, we know, 
Whose footprints spoil the " sacred soil," 

And this is ? — Fort Monroe ! 

The breakers roar, — how bears the shore ? 

— The traitorous wreckers' hands 

Have quenched the blaze that poured its rays 

Along the Hatteras sands. 
- Ha ! say not so ! I see its glow ! 

Again the shoals display , 

The beacon light that shines by night, 

The Union Stars by day ! 

The good ship flies to milder skies, 

The wave more gently flows ; 
The softening breeze wafts o'er the seas 

The breath of Beaufort's rose. 
What fold is this the sweet winds kiss, 

Fair-striped and many-starred, 
Whose shadow palls these orphaned walls, 

The twins of Beauregard ? 

What ! heard you not Port Royal's doom ? 

How the black war-ships came 
And turned the Beaufort roses' bloom 

To redder wreaths of flame ? 
How from Rebellion's broken reed 

We saw his emblem fall, 
As soon his cursed poison-weed 

Shall drop from Sumter's wall ? 

On ! on ! Pulaski's iron hail 

Falls harmless on Tybee ! 
Her topsails feel the freshening gale, — 

She strikes the open sea ; 
She rounds the point, she threads the Keys 

That guard the Land of Flowers, 



488 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

• And rides at last where firm and fast 
Her own Gibraltar towers ! 

The good ship Union's voyage is o'er, 

At anchor safe she swings, 
And loud and clear with cheer on cheer 

Her joyous welcome rings : 
Hurrah ! Hurrah ! it shakes the wave, 

It thunders on the shore, — 
One flag, one land, one heart, one hand, 

One Nation, evermore ! o. W. Holmes. 



CCCXLII. 
THE STRIPES AND THE STARS.. 

/~\ STAR Spangled Banner ! the Flag of our pride ! 
^-^ Though trampled by traitors and basely defied, 
Fling out to the glad w T inds your Red, White, and Blue, 
For the heart of the North-land is beating for you ! 
And her strong arm is nerving to strike with a will 
Till the foe and Ins boastings are humbled and still ! 
Here 's welcome to wounding and combat and scars 
And the glory of death — for the Stripes and the Stars ! 

From prairie, ploughman ! speed boldly away — 
There 's seed to be sown in God's furrows to-day — 
Row landward, lone fisher ! stout woodman, come home ! 
Let smith leave his anvil and weaver his loom, 
And hamlet and city ring loud with the cry, 
" For God and our country we '11 fight till we die ! 
Here 's welcome to wounding and combat and scars 
And the glory of death — for the Stripes and the Stars ! " 

Invincible Banner ! the Flag of the Free ! 
O, where treads the foot that would falter for thee ? 
Or the hands to be folded, till triumph is won 
And the eagle looks proud, as of old, to the sun ? 



RECENT SELECTIONS. 489 

Give tears for the parting — a murmur of prayer — 
Then Forward ! the fame of our standard to share ! 
With welcome to wounding and combat and scars 
And the glory of death — for the Stripes and the Stars ! 

O God of our Fathers ! this Banner must shine 

Where battle is hottest, in warfare divine ! 

The cannon has thundered, the bugle has blown, — • 

We fear not the summons — we fight not alone ! 

O, lead us, till wide from the Gulf to the Sea 

The land shall be sacred to Freedom and Thee ! 

With love, for oppression ; with blessing, for scars — 

One Country — one Banner — the Stripes and the Stars ! 

E. £>. Proctor. 



cccxLm. 

WHO'S READY? 

f~^ OD help us ! Who 's ready ? There 's danger before ! 
^-^ Who 's armed and who 's mounted ? The foe 's at the door ! 
The smoke of his cannon hangs black o'er the plain ; 
His shouts ring exultant while counting our slain : 
And northward and northward he presses his line, — 
Who 's ready ? O, forward ! — for yours and for mine ! 

No halting, no discord, the moments are Fates ; 

To shame or to glory they open the gates ! 

There 's all we hold dearest to lose or to win ; 

The web of the future to-day we must spin ; 

And bid the hours follow with knell or with chime ! — 

Who 's ready ? O, forward ! — while yet there is time ! 

Lead armies or councils, — be soldier a-field, — 

Alike, so your valor is Liberty's shield ! 

Alike, so you strike when the bugle-notes call, 

For Country, for Fireside, for Freedom to All ! 

The blows of the boldest will carry the day, — 

Who 's ready ? O, forward ! — there 's death in delay ! 



490 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

Earth's noblest are praying, at home and o'er sea, — 

" God keep the great nation united and free ! " 

Her tyrants watch, eager to leap at our life, 

If once we should falter or faint in the strife ; 

Our trust is unshaken, though legions assail, — 

Who 's ready ? O, forward ! — and Right shall prevail. 

Who 's ready ? " All ready ! " undaunted we cry ; 

" For Country, for Freedom, we '11 fight till we die ; 

No traitor, at midnight, shall pierce us in rest ; 

No alien, at noonday, shall stab us abreast ; 

The God of our Fathers is guiding us still, — 

All forward ! we 're ready, — and conquer we will ! " 

E. D. Procter. 



CCCXLIV. 

MITCHELL. 

"hung be the heavens with black." 

JTTIS mighty life was burned away 

By Carolina's fiery sun ; 
The pestilence that walks by day 

Smote him before his course seemed run. 

The constellations of the sky, — 

The Pleiades, the Southern Cross, — 

Looked sadly down to see him die, 
To see a nation weep his loss. 

" Send him to us," the stars might cry, -— 
" You do not feel his worth below ; 

Your petty great men do not try 
The measure of his mind to know. 

" His eye could pierce our vast expanse, — 
His ear could hear our morning songs, — 

His mind, amid our mystic dance, 
Could follow all our myriad throngs. 



RECENT SELECTIONS. 491 

" Send him to us ! No martyr's soul, 

No hero slain in righteous wars, 
No raptured saint could e'er control 

A holier welcome from the stars." 

Take him, ye stars ! Take him on high 
To your vast realms of boundless space ; 

But once he turned from you to try 
His name on martial scrolls to trace. 

That once was when his country's call 

Said danger to her flag was nigh ; 
And then her banner's stars dimmed all 

The radiant lights which gemmed the sky. 

Take him, loved orbs ! His country's life, — 
Freedom for all, — for these he wars ; 

For these he welcomed bloody strife, 
And followed in the wake of Mars. 

W. F. Williams. 



CCCXLV. 



WAR SONG. 

DEDICATED TO THE MASSACHUSETTS REGIMENTS. 

¥" TP with the Flag of the Stripes and the Stars ! 
Gather together from plough and from loom ! 
Hark to the signal ! — the music of wars 
Sounding for tyrants and traitors their doom. 
March, march, march, march ! 
Brothers unite — rouse in your might, 
For Justice and Freedom, for God and the Right ! 

Down with the foe to the land and the laws ! 
Marching together our country to save, 

God shall be with us to strengthen our cause, 
Nerving the heart and the hand of the brave. 
March, march, march, march ! 



492 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

Brothers unite — rouse in your might, 

For Justice and Freedom, for God and the Right ! 

Flag of the Free ! under thee will we fight, 
Shoulder to shoulder, our face to the foe ; 

Death to all traitors, and God for the Right ! 
Singing this song as to battle we go : 
March, march, march, march ! 
Freemen unite — rouse in your might 
For Justice and Freedom, for God and the Right ! 

Land of the Free — that our fathers of old, 
Bleeding together, cemented in blood — 

Give us thy blessing, as brave and as bold, 
Standing like one, as our ancestors stood — 
We march, march, march, march ! 
Conquer or fall ! Hark to the call : 
Justice and Freedom for one and for all ! 

Chain of the slave we have suffered so long — 
Striving together thy links we will break ! 

Hark ! for God hears us, as echoes our song, 
Sounding the cry to make Tyranny quake : 
March, march, march, march ! 
Conquer or fall ! Rouse to the call — 
Justice and Freedom for one and for all ! 

Workmen, arise ! There is work for us now ; 
Ours the red ledger for bayonet pen ; 

Sword be our hammer, and cannon our plough ; 
Liberty's loom must be driven by men. 
March, march, march, march ! 
Freemen we fight, roused in our might, 
For Justice and Freedom, for God and the Right. 

W. W. Story. 



RECENT SELECTIONS. 493 



CCCXLVI. 



THE BLACK REGIMENT; OR, TIIE SECOND LOUISIANA AT 
THE STORMING OF PORT HUDSON. 

T^VARK as the clouds of even, 
- L ^ Ranked in the western heaven, 
Waiting the breath that lifts 
All the dread mass, and drifts 
Tempest and falling brand 
Over a ruined land — 
So still and orderly, 
Arm to arm, knee to knee 
Waiting the great event, 
Stands the Black Regiment. 

Down the long dusky line 
Teeth gleam and eyeballs shine ; 
And the bright bayonet, 
Bristling and firmly set, 
Flashed with a purpose grand, 
Long ere the sharp command 
Of the fierce rolling drum 
Told them their time had come — 
Told them what work was sent 
For the Black Regiment. 

" Now," the flag-sergeant cried, 
" Though death and hell betide, 
Let the whole nation see 
If we are fit to be 
Free in this land ; or bound 
Down like the whining hound — 
Bound with red stripes of pain 
In our old chains again ! " 
Oh ! what a shout there went 
From the Black Regiment. 



494 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

" Charge ! " Trump and drum awoke ; 
Onward the bondmen broke ; 
Bayonet and sabre stroke 
Vainly opposed their rush. 
Through the wild battle's crush, 
With but one thought aflush, 
Driving their lords like chaff, 
In the guns' mouths they laugh ; 
Or at the slippery brands 
Leaping with open hands, 
Down they tear, mail and horse, 
Down in their awful course ; 
Trampling with bloody heel 
Over the crashing steel, 
All their eyes forward bent, 
Rushed the Black Regiment. 

" Freedom ! " their battle-cry 
" Freedom ! or leave to die ! " 
Ah ! and they meant the word, 
Not as with us 'tis heard, 
Not a mere party shout ; 
They gave their spirits out ; 
Trusted the end to God; 
And on the gory sod 
Rolled in triumphant blood, 
Glad to strike one free blow, 
Whether for weal or woe ; 
Glad to breathe one free breath, • 
Though on the lips of death, 
Praying — alas ! in vain ! — 
That they might fall again, 
So they could once more see 
That burst to liberty ! 
This was what." Freedom" lent 
To the Black Regiment. 



RECENT SELECTIONS. 495 

Hundreds on hundreds fell ; 
But they are resting well ; 
Scourges and shackles strong 
Never shall do them wrong. 
Oh, to the living few, 
Soldiers, be just and true ! 
Hail them as comrades tried ; 
Fight with them side by side ; 
Never, in field or tent, 
Scorn the Black Regiment ! 

G. H. Boker. 



CCCXLVII. 
FORWARD! 



G« 



.OD, to the human soul, 
And all the spheres that roll, 
Wrapped by his Spirit in their robes of light, 
Hath said : " The primal plan, 
Of all the world, and man, 
Is forward ! Progress is your law — your right." 

The despots of the earth, 

Since Freedom had her birth, 
Have to their subject nations said, " Stand still ; " 

So, from the Polar Bear, 

Comes down the freezing air, 
And stiffens all things with its deadly chill. 

He who doth God resist — 

God's old antagonist — 
Would snap the chain that binds all things to him ; 

And in his godless pride, 

All peoples would divide, 
And scatter even the choirs of seraphim. 

God, all the orbs that roll, 
Binds to one common goal — 



496 THE UJSTION SPEAKER. 

One source of light and life — his radiant throne. 

In one fraternal mind 

All races would he bind, 
Till every man in man a brother own. 

Tyrants with tyrants league, 

Corruption and intrigue 
To strangle infant Liberty conspire. 

Around her cradle, then, 

Let self-devoted men 
Gather, and keep unquenched her vital fire. 

When Tyranny, grown bold, 

To Freedom's host cries, " Hold ! 
Ye towards her temple at your peril march ; " 

" Stop," that great host replies, 

Raising to heaven its eyes, 
" Stop, first, the host that moves across yon arch ! " 

When Tyranny commands, 

" Hold thou my victim's hands, 
While I more firmly rivet on his chains, 

Or with my bowie-knife 

I '11 take your craven life, 
Or show my streets bespattered with your brains, " — 

Freedom with forward tread, 

Unblenching, turns her head, 
And drawing from its sheath her flashing glave, 

Calmly makes answer : '■'•Dare 

Touch of my head one hair, 
Til cut the cord that holds your every slave ! " 

J. Pierpont. 



BOOK THIRD. 
HUMOROUS SELECTIONS 

FOR 

RECITATION AND DECLAMATION 
IN PROSE AND POETRY. 



BOOK THIRD. 



HUMOROUS SELECTIONS, 

PROSE. 



cccxlviii. 
PLEA OF SERJEANT BUZFUZ, IN "BARDELL vs. PICKWICK" 

nnHE plaintiff, gentlemen, the plaintiff is a widow ; yes, gen- 
-■- tleraen, a widow. The late Mr. Bardell, after enjoying for 
many years the esteem and confidence of his sovereign, as one of 
the guardians of his royal revenues, glided almost imperceptibly 
from the world, to seek elsewhere for that repose and peace 
which a custom-house can never afford. Some time before his 
death he had stamped his likeness upon a little boy. With this 
little boy, the only pledge of her departed exciseman, Mrs. Bar- 
dell shrunk from the world, and courted the retirement and tran- 
quillity of Goswell Street ; and here she placed in her front par- 
lor window a written placard, bearing this inscription — " Apart- 
ments furnished for a single gentleman. Enquire within." I 
entreat the attention of the jury to the wording of this document — 
" Apartments furnished for a single gentleman ! " Mrs. Bardell's 
opinions of the opposite sex, gentlemen, were derived from a long 
contemplation of the inestimable qualities of her lost husband. 
She had no fear — she had no distrust — she had no suspicion — 
all was confidence and reliance. " Mr. Bardell," said the widow, 
" Mr. Bardell was a man of honor — Mr. Bardell was a man of 
his word — Mr. Bardell was no deceiver — Mr. Bardell was 
once a single gentleman himself; to single gentlemen I look for 
protection, for assistance, for comfort, and for consolation — in 
single gentlemen I shall perpetually see something to remind me 
of what Mr. Bardell was, when he first won my young and un- 



500 ' THE UNION SPEAKER. 

tried affections ; to a single gentleman, then, shall my lodgings 
be let." Actuated by this beautiful and touching impulse, 
(among the best impulses of our imperfect nature, gentlemen,) 
the lonely and desolate widow dried her tears, furnished her first 
floor, caught her innocent boy to her maternal bosom, and put 
the bill up in her parlor window. Did it remain there long ? 
No. The serpent was on the watch, the train was laid, the mine 
was preparing, the sapper and miner was at work. Before the 
bill had been in the parlor window three days — three days, 
gentlemen — a being erect upon two legs, and bearing all the 
outward semblance of a man, and not of a monster, knocked at 
the door of Mrs. Bardell's house. He inquired within ; he took 
the lodgings ; and on the very next day he entered into possession 
of them. This man was Pickwick — Pickwick, the defendant. 

Of this man Pickwick I will say little ; the subject presents 
but few attractions ; and I, gentlemen, am not the man, nor are 
you, gentlemen, the men to delight in the contemplation of revolt- 
ing heartlessness and systematic villainy. T say systematic vil- 
lainy, gentlemen, and when I say systematic villainy, let me tell 
the defendant, Pickwick, if he be in court, as I am informed he 
is, that it would have been more decent in him, more becoming, 
in better judgment, and in better taste, if he had stopped away. 
Let me tell him, gentlemen, that any gestures of dissent or dis- 
approbation in which he may indulge in this court will not go 
down with you ; that you will know how to value and how to 
appreciate them ; and let me tell him further, as my lord will 
tell you, gentlemen, that a counsel, in the discharge of his duty 
to his client, is neither to be intimidated, nor bullied, nor put 
down ; and that any attempt to do either the one or the other, 
or the first or the last, will recoil on the head of the attempter, be 
he plaintiff, or be he defendant, be his name Pickwick, or Noakes, 
or Stoakes, or Stiles, or Brown, or Thompson. 

I shall show you, gentlemen, that for two years Pickwick con- 
tinued to reside constantly, and without interruption or intermis- 
sion, at'Mrs. Bardell's house. I shall show you that Mrs. Bar- 
dell, during the whole of that time, waited on him, attended to his 
comforts, cooked his meals, looked out his linen for the wash- 
erwoman when it went abroad, darned, aired, and prepared it 
for wear when it came home, and, in short, enjoyed his fullest 



HUMOROUS SELECTIONS. 501 

trust and confidence. I shall show you that, on many occasions, 
he gave half-pence, and on some occasions even sixpences, to her 
little boy ; and I shall prove to you, by a witness whose testi- 
mony it will be impossible for my learned friend to weaken or 
controvert, that on one occasion he patted the boy on the head, 
and after inquiring whether he had won any alley-tors or com- 
moners lately, (both of which I understand to be species of mar- 
bles much prized by the youth of this town,) made use of this 
remarkable expression — " How would you like to have another 
father ? " 

Two letters have passed between these parties, letters which 
are admitted to be in the handwriting of the defendant, and which 
speak volumes indeed. These letters, too, bespeak the character 
of the man. They are not open, fervid, eloquent epistles, breath- 
ing nothing but the language of affectionate attachment. They 
are covert, sly, underhanded communications, but, fortunately, 
far more conclusive than if couched in the most glowing language 
and the most poetic imagery — letters that must be viewed with 
a cautious and suspicious eye — letters that were evidently in- 
tended at the time, by Pickwick, to mislead and delude any third 
parties into whose hands they might fall. Let me read the first: 
— " Garraway's, twelve o'clock. — Dear Mrs. B. — Chops and to- 
mato sauce. Yours, Pickwick." Gentlemen, what does this mean ? 
Chops and tomato sauce. Yours, Pickwick ! Chops ! Gracious 
heavens ! and tomato sauce ! Gentlemen, is the happiness of a 
sensitive and confiding female to be trifled away by such shallow 
artifices as these ? The next has no date whatever, which is in 
itself suspicious — " Dear Mrs. B. — I shall not be at home 
to-morrow. Slow coach." And then follows this very remark- 
able expression : — " Don't trouble yourself about the warming- 
pan ! " The warming-pan ! Why, gentlemen, who does trouble 
himself about a warming-pan ? When was the peace of mind of 
man or woman broken or disturbed about a warming-pan, which 
is in itself a harmless, a useful, and I will add, gentlemen, a com- 
forting article of domestic furniture ? Why is Mrs. Bardell so 
earnestly entreated not to agitate herself about this warming- 
pan, unless (as is no doubt the case) it is a mere cover for hid- 
den fire — a mere substitute for some endearing word or prom- 
ise, agreeable to some preconcerted system of correspondence, 



502 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

artfully contrived by Pickwick with a view to his contemplated 
desertion, and which I am not in a condition to explain ? And 
what does this allusion to the slow coach mean ? For aught I 
know, it may be a reference to Pickwick himself, who has most 
unquestionably been a criminally slow coach during the whole 
of this transaction, but whose speed will now be very unex- 
pectedly accelerated, and whose wheels, gentlemen, as he will 
find to his cost, will soon be greased by you ! 

But enough of this, gentlemen : it is difficult to smile with an 
aching heart ; it is ill jesting when our deepest sympathies are 
awakened. My client's hopes and prospects are ruined, and it is 
no figure of speech to say that her occupation is gone indeed. 
The bill is down — but there is no tenant. Eligible single gen- 
tlemen pass and repass — but there is no invitation for them 
to inquire within, or without. All is gloom and silence in the 
house ; even the voice of the child is hushed ; his infant sports 
are disregarded when his mother weeps ; his " alley-tors " and 
his " commoneys " are alike neglected ; he forgets the long 
familiar cry of "knuckle-down," and at tip-chesse, or odd-and- 
even, his hand is out. But Pickwick, gentlemen, Pickwick, the 
ruthless destroyer of this domestic oasis in Goswell Street — 
Pickwick, who has choked up the well, and thrown ashes on the 
sward — Pickwick, who comes before you to-day with his heart- 
less tomato sauce and warming-pans — Pickwick still rears his 
head with unblushing effrontery, and gazes without a sigh on the 
ruin he has made. Damages, gentlemen — heavy damages, is 
the only punishment with which you can visit him ; the only 
recompense you can award to my client. And for those damages 
she now appeals to an enlightened, a high-minded, a right-feeling, 
a conscientious, a dispassionate, a sympathizing, a contemplative 
jury of her civilized countrymen. C. Dickens. 






CCCXLIX. 
ME. PUFF'S ACCOUNT OF HIMSELF. 

O IR, — I make no secret of the trade I follow. Among friends 
^ and brother authors, I love to be frank on the subject, and 
to advertise myself viva voce. I am, sir, a practitioner in pane- 



HUMOROUS SELECTIONS. 503 

gyric ; or, to speak more plainly, a professor of the art of puffing, 
at your service — or anybody's else. I dare say, now, you con- 
ceive half the very civil paragraphs and advertisements you see 
to be written by the parties concerned, or their friends. No 
such thing ; nine out of ten manufactured by me, in the way of 
business. You must know, sir, that from the first time I tried 
my hand at an advertisement, my success was such, that for 
some time after I led a most extraordinary life, indeed. Sir, 
I supported myself two years entirely by my misfortunes ; by 
advertisements To the charitable and humane! and To those 
whom Providence has blessed with affluence ! And, in truth, I 
deserved what I got ; for I suppose never man went through such 
a series of calamities in the same space of time. Sir, I was five 
times made a bankrupt, and reduced from a state of affluence, by 
a train of unavoidable misfortunes ; then, sir, though a very 
industrious tradesman, I was twice burned out, and lost my little 
all both times. I lived upon those fires a month. I soon after 
was confined by a most excruciating disorder, and lost the use 
of my limbs. That told very well ; for I had the case strongly 
attested, and went about to collect the subscriptions myself. I was 
afterwards twice tapped for a dropsy, which declined into a 
very profitable consumption. I was then reduced to — O no ! — 
then I became a widower with six helpless children. All this I 
bore with patience, though I made some occasional attempts at 
felo de se ; but, asT did not find those rash actions answer, I left 
off killing myself very soon. Well, sir, at last, what with bank- 
ruptcies, fires, gouts, dropsies, imprisonments, and other valuable 
calamities, having got together a pretty handsome sum, I deter- 
mined to quit a business which had always gone rather against 
my conscience, and in a more liberal way still to indulge my 
talents for fiction and embellishments, through my favorite chan- 
nel of diurnal communication ; and so, sir, you have my history. 

R. B. Sheridan. 



M R ; 



CCCL. 
LYCEUM SPEECH OF MR. ORATOR CLIMAX. 

PRESIDENT, — Happiness is like a crow perched 
upon the neighboring top of a far distant mountain, which 



504 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

some fisherman vainly strives, to no purpose, to ensnare. He 
looks at the crow, Mr. President, — and — Mr. President, the 
crow looks at him ; and, sir, they both look at each other. But 
the moment he attempts to reproach him, he banishes away like 
the schismatic taints of the rainbow, the cause of which, it was 
the astonishing and perspiring genius of a Newton, who first 
deplored and enveloped the cause of it. Cannot the poor man, 
sir, precipitate into all the beauties of nature, from the loftiest 
mounting up to the most humblest valley, as well as the man 
prepossessed of indigence ? Yes, sir ; while trilling transports 
crown his view, and rosy hours allure his sanguinary youth, he 
can raise his mind up to the laws of nature, incompressible as 
they are, while viewing the lawless storm that kindleth up the 
tremenjious roaring thunder, and fireth up the dark and rapid 
lightnings, and causeth it to fly through the intensity of space, 
that belches forth those awful and sublime meteors, and roll- 
abolly-aliases, through the unfathomable regions of fiery hemis- 
pheres. Sometimes, sir, seated in some lonely retreat, beneath 
the shadowy shades of an umbrageous tree, at whose venal foot 
flows some limping stagnant stream, he gathers around him 
his wife and the rest of his orphan children. He there takes 
a retrospective view upon the diagram of futurity, and casts 
his eye like a flashing meteor forward into the past. Seated 
in their midst, aggravated and exhaled by the dignity and 
independence coincident with honorable poverty, his countenance 
irrigated with an intense glow of self-deficiency and excommu- 
nicated knowledge, he quietly turns to instruct his little assem- 
blage. He there endeavors to distil into their young youth- 
ful minds useless lessons, to guard their juvenile youths against 
vice and immortality.. There, on a clear sunny evening, when 
the silvery moon is shining forth in all her indulgence and 
ubiquity, he teaches them the first sediments of gastronomy, by 
pointing out to them the bear, the lion, and many other fixed 
invisible consternations, which are continually involving upon 
their axletrees, through the blue cerulean fundamus above. From 
this vast ethereal he dives with them to the very bottom of the 
unfathomable oceans, bringing up from thence liquid treasures 
of earth and air. He then courses with them on the imaginable 
wing of fancy through the boundless regions of unimaginable 



HUMOROUS SELECTIONS. 505 

either, until, swelling into impalpable immensity, he is forever 
lost in the infinite radiation of his own overwhelming genius. 

Anonymous. 



CCCLI. 

BULLUM vs. BOATUM. 

TT7 II AT a profound study is the law ! ' How shall I define it ? 
Law is — law. Law is — law ; and so forth, and hereby, 
and aforesaid, provided always, nevertheless, notwithstanding. 
Law is like a country dance ; people are led up and down in it 
till they are tired. It is like physic ; they that take the least of 
it are best off. Law is like a homely gentlewoman ; very well 
to follow. Law is like a scolding wife ; verv bad when it fol- 
lows us. Law is like a new fashion ; people are bewitched to 
get into it ; it is also like bad weather ; most people are glad 
when they get out of it. We will now mention, in illustration, a 
case that came before us, — the case of Bullum vs. Boatum. It 
was as follows : — 

There were two farmers — farmer A. and farmer B. Far- 
mer A. was seized or possessed of a bull ; farmer B. was seized 
or possessed of a ferry-boat. Now, the owner of the ferry-boat, 
having made his boat fast to a post on shore, with a piece of hay 
twisted rope-fashion, or, as we say, vulgo vocato, a hay-band, — 
after he had made his boat fast to the aforesaid post (as it was 
very natural for a hungry man to do) went up to town to dinner. 
Farmer A.'s bull (as it was natural for a hungry bull to do) came 
down town to look for a dinner; and, observing, discovering, 
seeing, and spying out some turnips in the bottom of the ferry- 
boat, ate up the turnips, and, to make an end of his meal, fell to 
work upon the hay-band. The boat, being eaten from its moor- 
ings, floated down the river with the bull in it ; it struck against 
a rock, beat a hole in the bottom of the boat, and tossed the bull 
overboard ; whereupon the owner of the bull brought his action 
against the boat for running away with the bull. The owner of 
the boat brought his action against the bull for running away 
with the boat. And thus notice of trial was given, Bullum vs. 
Boatum, Boatum vs. Bullum. 



506 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

The counsel for the bull begun with saying : — " My lord, and 
you, gentlemen of the jury, we are counsel in this cause for the 
bull. We are indicted for running away with the boat. Now, 
my lord, we have heard of running horses, but never of running 
bulls before. Now, my lord, the bull could no more run away 
with the boat than a man in a coach may be said to run away 
with the horses ; therefore, my lord, how can we punish what is 
not punishable ? How can we eat what is not eatable ? Or, 
how can we drink what is not drinkable ? Or, as the law says, 
how can we think what is not thinkable ? Therefore, my lord, 
as we are counsel in this cause for the bull, if the jury should 
bring the bull in guilty, the jury would be guilty of a bull." 

The counsel for the boat observed, that the bull should be non- 
suited, because, in his declaration, he had not specified what color 
he was of; for thus wisely, and thus learnedly, spoke the coun- 
sel : — " My lord, if the bull was of no color, he must be of some 
color ; and, if he was not of any color, what color could the bull 
be of?" I overruled this motion myself, by observing the bull 
was a white bull, and that white is no color ; besides, as I told 
my brethren, they should not trouble their heads to talk of color 
in law, for the law can color anything. This cause being after- 
wards left to a reference, upon the aw r ard, both bull and boat 
were acquitted, it being proved that the tide of the river carried 
them both away ; upon which I gave it as my opinion, that, as 
the tide of the river carried both bull and boat away, both bull 
and boat had good action against the water-bailiff. 

My opinion being taken, an action was issued, and, upon the 
traverse, this point of law r arose .: How, wherefore, and whether, 
why, when, and what, whatsoever, whereas, and whereby, as the 
boat w r as not a compos mentis evidence, how could an oath be 
administered ? That point was soon settled by Boatum's attor- 
ney declaring that, for his client, he would swear anything. 

The water-bailiff's charter was then read, taken out of the 
original record in true law Latin ; which set forth in their dec- 
laration, that they were carried away either by the tide of flood 
or the tide of ebb. The character of the water-bailiff was as 
follows : " Aquce bailijji est magistratus in choici, sapor omni- 
bus jishibus qui habuerunt Jinos et scalos, claws, shells, et talos, 
qui swimmare in freshibus, vel saltibus riveris, lakos, pondis, 



HUMOROUS SELECTIONS. 507 

canalibus et .well-boats, sive oysteri, prawni, whitini, shrimpi, 
turbutus solus ; " that is, not turbots alone, but turbots and soles 
both together. But now comes the nicety of the law ; for the 
law is as nice as a new-laid eg£. Bullum and Boatum mentioned 
both ebb and flood, to avoid quibbling ; but, it being proved that 
they were carried away neither by the tide of flood nor by the 
tide of ebb, but exactly upon the top of high water, they were 
nonsuited ; but, such was the lenity of the court, that, upon their 
paying all costs they were allowed to begin again de novo. 

G. A. Stevens. 



ccclii. 

PLEADING EXTRAORDINARY. 

1%/TAY it please the Court — Gentlemen t of the Jury — 
-*-"-*- You sit in that box as the great reservoir of Roman lib- 
erty, Spartan fame, and Grecian polytheism. You are to swing 
the great flail of justice and electricity over this immense com- 
munity, in hydraulic majesty, and conjugal superfluity. You 
are the great triumphal arch on which evaporates the even scales 
of justice and numerical computation. You ^re to ascend the 
deep arcana of nature, and dispose of my client with equiponder- 
ating concatenation, in reference to his future velocity and rever- 
berating momentum. Such is your sedative and stimulating 
character. My client is only a man of domestic eccentricity and 
matrimonial configuration, not permitted, as you are, gentlemen, 
to walk in the primeval and lowest vales of society, but he has 
to endure the red-hot sun of the universe, on the heights of nobil- 
ity and feudal eminence. He has a beautiful wife of horticul- 
tural propensities, that hen-pecks the remainder of his days with 
soothing and bewitching verbosity, that makes the nectar of his 
pandemonium as cool as Tartarus. 

He has a family of domestic children, that gathers around the 
fireplace of his peaceful homicide in tumultitudinous consan- 
guinity, and cry with screaming and rebounding pertinacity for 
bread, butter, and molasses. Such is the glowing and over- 
whelming character and defeasance of my client, who stands 
convicted before this court of oyer and terminer, and lex non 
scripta, by the persecuting pettifogger of this court, who is as 



508 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

much exterior to me as I am interior to the judge, and you, gen- 
tlemen of the jury. 

This Borax of the law here has brought witnesses into this 
court, who swear that my client has stolen a firkin of butter. 
Now, I say, every one of them swore to a lie, and the truth is 
concentrated within them. But if it is so, I justify the act on 
the ground that the butter was necessary for a public good, to 
tune his family into harmonious discord. But I take no other 
mountainous and' absquatulated grounds on this trial, and move 
that a quash be laid upon this indictment. 

Now I will prove this by a learned expectoration of the prin- 
ciple of the law. Now butter is made of grass, and, it is laid 
down by St. Peter Pindar, in his principle of subterraneous law, 
that grass is couchant and levant, which m our obicular tongue, 
means that grass is of a mild and free nature ; consequently, my 
client had a right to grass and butter both. 

To prove my second great principle, " let facts be submitted 
to a candid world." Now butter is grease, and Greece is a 
foreign country, situated in the emaciated regions of Liberia 
and California ; consequently my client cannot be tried in this 
horizon, and is out of the benediction of this court. I will now 
bring forward the ultimatum respondentia, and cap the great 
climax of logic, by quoting an inconceivable principle of law, as 
laid down in Latin, by Pothier, Hudibras, Blackstone, Hannibal, 
and Sangrado. It is thus : Hcec hoc morns multicaulis, a mensa 
et fhoro, ruta baga centum. Which means, in English, that 
ninety-nine men are guilty, where one is innocent. 

Now, it is your duty to convict ninety-nine men first ; then 
you come to my client, who is innocent and acquitted according 
to law. If these great principles shall be duly depreciated in 
this court, then the great North pole of liberty, that has stood so 
many years in pneumatic tallness, shading there publican regions 
of commerce and agriculture, will stand the wreck of the Span- 
ish Inquisition, the pirates of the hyperborean seas, and the 
marauders of the Aurora Blivar ! But, gentlemen of the jury, 
if you convict my client, his children will be doomed to pine 
away in a state of hopeless matrimony ; and his beautiful wife 
will stand lone and delighted,. like a dried up mullen-stalk in a 

Sheep-pasture. Anonymous. 



HUMOROUS SELECTIONS. 509 



cccLm. 
FUSS AT FIRES. 

TT having been announced to me, my young friends, that you 
were about forming a fire-company, I have called you together 
to give you such directions as long experience in a first-quality 
engine company qualifies me to communicate. The moment you 
hear an alarm of fire, scream like a pair of panthers. Run any 
way, except the right way, — for the furthest way round is the 
nearest way to the fire. If you happen to run on the top of a 
wood-pile, so much the better ; you can then get a good view of 
the neighborhood. If a light breaks on your view, " break " for 
for it immediately ; but be sure you don't jump into a bow- 
window. Keep yelling, all the time ; and, if you can't make 
night hideous enough yourself, kick all the dogs you come across, 
and set them yelling, too ; 't will help amazingly. A brace of 
cats dragged up stairs by the tail would be a u powerful auxili- 
ary." When you reach the scene of the fire, do all you can to 
convert it into a scene of destruction. Tear down all the fences 
in the vicinity. If it be a chimney on fire, throw salt down it ; 
or, if you can't do that, perhaps the best plan would be to jerk 
off the pump-handle and pound it down. Don't forget to yell, 
all the while, as it will have a prodigious effect in frightening off 
the fire. The louder the better, of course ; and the more ladies 
in the vicinity, the greater necessity for " doing it brown." 
Should the roof begin to smoke, get to work in good earnest, and 
make any man " smoke " that interrupts you. If it is summer, 
and there are fruit-trees in the lot, cut them down, to prevent 
the fire from roasting the apples. Don't forget to yell ! Should 
the stable be threatened, carry out the cow-chains. Never mind 
the horse, — •- he '11 be alive and kicking ; and if his legs don't do 
their duty, let them pay for the roast. Ditto as to the hogs, — 
let them save their own bacon, or smoke for it. When the roof 
begins to burn, get a crow-bar and pry away the stone steps ; 
or, if the steps be of wood, procure an axe and chop them up. 
Next, cut away the wash-boards in the basement story ; and if 
that don't stop the flames, let the chair-boards on the first floor 
share a similar fate. Should the " devouring element " still pur- 



510 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

sue the " even tenor of its way," you had better ascend to the 
second story. Pitch out the pitchers, and tumble out the tum- 
blers. Tell all the time ! 

If you find a baby a-bed, fling it into the second story window 
of the house across the way ; but let the kitten carefully down 
in a work-basket. Then draw out the bureau drawers, and 
empty their contents out of the back window ; telling somebody 
below to upset the slop-barrel and rain-water hogshead at the 
same time. Of course, you will attend to the mirror. The 
further it can be thrown, the more pieces will be made. If any- 
body objects, smash it over his head. Do not, under any circum- 
stances, drop the tongs down from the second story ; the fall 
might break its legs, and render the poor thing a cripple for life. 
Set it straddle of your shoulder, and carry it down carefully. 
Pile the bedclothes carefully on the floor, and throw the crock- 
ery out of the window. By the time you will have attended to 
all these things, the fire will certainly be arrested, or the build- 
ing be burnt down. In either case, your services will be no 
longer needed ; and, of course, you require no further directions. 

Anonymous. 

♦ 

CCCLIV. 

MR. PEEPER AGE'S PERORATION. 

rpHE Union ! Inspiring theme ! How shall I find words to 
-*- describe its momentous magnificence and its beatific lustre ? 
The Union ! — it is the ark of our safety ! — the palladium of 
our liberties ! — the safeguard of our happiness ! — and the aegis 
of our virtues ! In the Union we live and move and go ahead. 
It watches over us at our birth — it fans us in our cradles — it 
accompanies us to the district school — it gives .us our victuals 
in due season — it selects our wives for us from "America's fair 
daughters," and it does a great many other things ; to say noth- 
ing of putting us to sleep sometimes, and keeping the flies from 
our innocent repose. 

While the Union lasts, we have the most remarkable prospect 
of plenty of fodder, with occasional drinks. By its beneficent 
energies, however, should the present supply give out, we shall 
rise superior to the calculations of an ordinary and narrow 



HUMOROUS SELECTIONS. 511 

prudence, and take in Cuba, Hayti, and Mexico, and such parts 
of all contiguous islands as may offer prospects for an advanta- 
geous investment. 

Palsied be the arm, then, and blistered the tongue, and humped 
the back, and broken the legs, and eviscerated the stomach, of 
every person who dares to think, or even dream of harming it ! 
May the heaviest curses of time fall upon his scoundrelly soul ! 
May his juleps curdle in his mouth. May he smoke none but 
New Orleans tobacco ! May his family be perpetually ascend- 
ing the Mississippi in a steamboat ! May his own grandmother 
disown him ! And may the suffrages of his fellow-citizens pur- 
sue him like avenging furies, till he is driven howling into Con- 
gress. For oh ! my dear, dear friends — my beloved fellow- 
citizens, — who can foretell the agonies, or the sorrows, or the 
blights, and ' the anguish, and the despair, and the black eyes, 
and the bloody noses, that would follow, upon the dispersion of 
our too happy, happy family. 

The accursed myrmidons of despotism, with gnashing teeth 
and blood-stained eyes, would rush at large over the planet. 
They would lap the crimson gore of the most respectable and 
wealthy citizens. The sobs of females, and the screams of 
children, would mingle with the bark of dogs and the crash of 
falling columns. A universal and horrid night would mantle the 
skies, and one by one, the strong pillars of the universe go 
crumbling into ruin, amid the gleam of bowie-knives and the 
lurid glare of exploding steamboats. Anonymous. 



CCCLV. 
FOURTH OF JULY ORATION. 

TjlELLER-CITIZENS, — I've bin honored with a invite to 
-^ norate before you to-day ; and when I say that I skurcely 
feel ekal to the task, I 'm sure you will believe me. I 'm a plane 
man. I don't know nothing about no ded langwidges and am a 
little shaky on livin ones. There 4, expect no flowry talk from 
me. What I shall say will be to the pint, right strate out. I am 
not a politician and my other habits air good. I 've no enemys 
to reward, nor friends to sponge. But I'm a Union man. I 



512 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

luv the Union — it is a Big thing — and it makes my hart 
bleed to see a lot of ornery people a-movin heaven — no, not 
heaven, but the other place — and earth, to bust it up. 

Feller- Citizens — I haint got time to notis the growth of 
Ameriky frum the time when the Mayflowers cum over in the 
Pilgrim and brawt Plymouth Rock with them, but every skool 
boy nose our kareer has bin tremenjis. You will excuse me if I 
don't prase the early settlers of the Kolonies. I spose they 
ment well, and so, in the novel and techin langwidge of the nuse- 
papers, " peas to their ashis." There was no diskount, however, 
on them brave men who fit, bled and died in the American Rev- 
olushun. We need n't be afraid of setting 'em up two steep. 
Like my show, they will stand any amount of prase. G. Wash- 
ington was abowt the best man this world ever sot eyes on. 
He was a clear-heded, warm-harted, and stiddy goin man. He 
never slopt over ! The prevailin weakness of most public men is 
to slop over ! They git filled up and slop. They Rush Things. 
They travel too much on the high presher principle. They git 
onto the fust poplar hobby-hoss which trots along, not caring 
a cent whether the beest is even goin, clear sited and sound 
or spavined, blind and bawky. Of course they git throwed 
eventooualy, if not sooner. When they see the multitood goin 
it blind they go pel mel with it, instid of exertin theirselves to 
set it right. They can't see that the crowd which is now bearin 
them triumfuntly on its shoulders will soon diskiver its error 
and cast them into the hoss pond of oblivyun, without the slitest 
hesitashun. Washington never slopt over. That was n't George's 
stile. He luved his country dearly. He was n't after the spiles. 
He was a human angil in a 3 kornered hat and knee britches, 
and we shant see his like right away. My frends, we cant all 
be Washingtons, but we kin all be patrits and behave ourselves 
in a human and a Christian manner. When we see a brother 
goin down hill to Ruin let us not give him a push, but let us 
seeze rite hold of his coat-tails and draw him back to Morality. 

Imagine G. Washington and P. Henry in the characters of 
seseshers ! As well fancy John Bunyan and Dr. Watts in 
spangled tites, doin the trapeze in a one-horse circus. 

I tell you, feller-citizens, it would have bin ten dollars in Jeff 
Davis's pocket if he 'd never been born ! c. F. Brown. 



BOOK THIRD 



HUMOROUS SELECTIONS. 

POETRY. 



CCCLVI. 
THE DUEL. 

TN Brentford town, of old renown, 

There lived a Mister Bray, 
Who fell in love with Lucy Bell, 
And so did Mister Clay. 

To see her ride from Hammersmith, 

By all it was allowed, 
Such fair " outside " was never seen, — 

An angel on a cloud. 

Said Mr. Bray to Mr. Clay, 

" You choose to rival me, 
And court Miss Bell ; but there your court 

No thoroughfare shall be. 

" Unless you now give up your suit, 
You may repent your love ; — 

I, who have shot a pigeon match, 
Can shoot a turtle dove. 

" So, pray, before you woo her more, 

Consider what you do : 
If you pop aught to Lucy Bell, — 

I '11 pop it into you." 
33 



514 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

Said Mr. Clay to Mr. Bray, 

" Your threats I do explode ; — 

One who has been a volunteer 
Knows how to prime and load. 

" And so I say to you, unless 

Your passion quiet keeps, 
I, who have shot and hit bulls' eyes, 

May chance to hit a sheep's ! " 

Now gold is oft for silver changed, 

Ajid that for copper red ; 
But these two went away to give 

Each other change for lead. 

But first they found, a friend apiece, 
This pleasant thought to give — 

That when they both were dead, they *d have 
Two seconds yet to live. 

To measure out the ground, not long 

The seconds next forbore ; 
And having taken one rash step, 

They took a dozen more. 

They next prepared each pistol pan, 

Against the deadly strife ; 
By putting in the prime of death, 

Against the prime of life. 

Now all was ready for the foes ; 

But when they took their stands, 
Fear made them tremble so, they found 

They both were shaking hands. 

Said Mr. C. to Mr. B., 

" Here one of us must fall, 
And, like St. Paul's Cathedral now, 

Be doomed to have a ball. 



HUMOROUS. SELECTIONS. 515 

"I do confess I did attach 

Misconduct to your name ! 
If I withdraw the charge, will then 

Your ramrod do the same ? " 

Said Mr. B., " I do agree ; — 

But think of Honor's courts, — 
If we go off without a shot, 

There will be strange reports. 

" But look ! the morning now is bright, 

Though cloudy it begun ; 
Why can't we aim above, as if 

We had called out the sun ? " 

So up into the harmless air 

Their bullets they did send ; 
And may all other duels have 

That upshot in the end. t. Hood. 



ccclvh. 
MUSIC FOR THE MILLION. 

A MONGST the great inventions of this age, 
-*•-*- Which every other century surpasses, 
Is one, — just now the rage, — 

Called " Singing for all classes," 
That now, alas ! have no more ear than asses, 
To learn to warble like the birds in June — 
In time and tune, 
Correct as clocks, and musical as glasses ! 

Whether this grand harmonic scheme 

Will ever get beyond a dream, 
And tend to British happiness and glory, 

May be no, and may be yes, 

Is more than I pretend to guess — 
However here 's my story. 



516 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

In one of those small, quiet streets, 

Where business retreats, 
To shun the daily bustle and the noise 

The shoppy Strand enjoys, 
But land, joint-companies, and life-insurance 

Find past endurance — 
In one of these back streets, to peace so dear, 

The other day a ragged wight 

Began to sing with all his might, 
" I have a silent sorrow here ! " 

Heard in that quiet place, 
Devoted to a still and studious race, 

The noise was quite appalling ! 
To seek a fitting simile, and spin it, 

Appropriate to his calling, 
His voice had all Lablache's body, in it ; 

But oh ! the scientific tone it lacked, 
And was in fact 
Only a forty-boatswain power of bawling ! 

'T was said indeed for want of vocal nous 

The stage had banished him when he 'tempted it, 
For though his voice completely filled the house, 
It also emptied it. 
However, there he stood 
Vociferous — a ragged don ! 
And with his iron pipes laid on — 
A row to all the neighborhood. 

In vain were sashes closed, 

And doors against the persevering Stentor ; 
Though brick and glass, and solid oak opposed, 

The intruding voice would enter, 
Heedless of ceremonial or decorum, 
Den, office, parlor, study, and sanctorum ; 
Where clients and attorneys, rogues and fools, 
Ladies, and masters who attend the schools, 
Clerks, agents all provided with their tools, 



HUMOROUS SELECTIONS. 517 

Were sitting upon sofas, chairs, and stools, 
With shelves, pianos, tables, desks, before 'em — 
How it did bore 'em ! 

Louder and louder still, 
The fellow sang with horrible good-will, 
Curses, both loud and deep, his sole gratuities, 
From scribes bewildered, making many a flaw, 
In deeds of law 
They had to draw ; 
With dreadful incongruities 
In posting legers, making up accounts, 
To large amounts, 
Or casting up annuities — 
Stunned by that voice so loud and hoarse, 
Against whose overwhelming force 
No invoice stood a chance, of course ! 

From room to room, from floor to floor, 

From Number One to Twenty-four, 

The nuisance bellowed ; till all patience lost, 

Down came Miss Frost, 
Expostulating at her open door — 

" Peace, monster, peace ! 

Where is the new police ? 
I vow I cannot work, or read, or pray, 

Do n't stand there bawling, fellow, don't ! 
You really send my serious thoughts astray, 
Do — there 's a dear, good man — do, go away." 

Says he, " I won't ! " 

'The spinster pulled her door to with a slam, 

That sounded like a wooden d n ; 

For so some moral people, strictly loth 
To swear in words, however up, 
Will crash a curse in setting down a cup, 

Or through a door-post vent a banging oath, — 

In fact, this sort of physical transgression 
Is really no more difficult to trace, 



518 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

Than in a given face 
A very bad expression. 

However in she went 
Leaving the subject of her discontent 
To Mr. Jones's clerk at Number Ten ; 
Who throwing up the sash, 
With accents rash, 
Thus hailed the most vociferous of men : 
" Come, come, I say, old fellow, stop your chant ; 
I cannot write a sentence — no one can't ! 
So pack up your trumps, — 
And stir your stumps." 
Says he, " I shan't ! " 

Down went the sash, 
As if devoted to " eternal smash." 
(Another illustration 
Of acted imprecation,) 
While close at hand, uncomfortably near, 
The independent voice, so loud and strong, 

And clanging like a gong, 
Roared out again the everlasting song, 
" I have a silent sorrow here ! " 

The thing was hard to stand ! 

The music-master could not stand it, 
But rushing forth with fiddle-stick in hand, 

As savage as a bandit, 
Made up directly to the tattered man, 
And thus in broken sentences began : 

" Com — com — I say ! 

You go away ! 
Into two parts my head you split — 
My fiddle cannot hear himself a bit, 

When I do play — 
You have no business in a place so still ! 
Can you not come another day ? " 

Says he, " I will.' 



HUMOROUS SELECTIONS. 519. 

* No — no — you scream and bawl ! 
You must not come at all ! 
You have no right, by rights, to beg — 
You have not one off leg — 

You ought to work — you have not some complaint — 
You are not cripple in your back or bones — 
Your voice is strong enough to break some stones ° — 
Says he, " It ain't." 

" I say you ought to labor ! 
You are in a young case, 
You have not sixty years upon your face, 

To come and beg your neighbor — 
And discompose his music with a noise 
More worse than twenty boys — 
Look what a street it is for quiet ! 
No cart to make a riot, 

No coach, no horses, no postillion : 
If you will sing, I say, it is not just 
To sing so loud." 
Says he, " I must ! 

Vm singing for the million ! " T. Hood. 



cccLvm. 
ODE TO MY BOY, AGED THREE YEARS. 

rriHOU happy, happy elf! 

-*- (But stop, first let me kiss away that tear,) 

Thou tiny image of myself ! 
(My love, he 's poking peas into his ear !) 

Thou merry, laughing sprite, 

With spirits feather light, 
Untouched by sorrow, and un soiled by sin — 
(Good heavens ! the child is swallowing a pin !) 

Thou little tricksy Puck ! 
With antic toys so funnily bestruck, 



520 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

Light as the singing bird that wings the air — 
(The door ! the door ! he '11 tumble down the stair !) 

Thou darling of thy sire ! 
(Why, Jane, he '11 set his pinafore a-fire !) 

Thou imp of mirth and joy ! 
In love's dear chain, so strong and bright a link, 
Thou idol of thy parents — (Drat the boy ! 

There goes my ink.) 

Thou cherub, but of earth ; 
Fit play-fellow for fays, by moonlight pale, 

In harmless sport and mirth, 
(That dog will bite him if he pulls his tail !) 

Thou human humming-bee, extracting honey 
From every blossom in the world that blows, 

Singing in youth's Elysium ever sunny, 
(Another tumble ! — that 's his precious nose !) 

Thy father's pride and hope ! 
(He '11 break the mirror with that skipping rope !) 

With pure heart, newly stampt from nature's mint, 
(Where did he learn that squint ?) 

Thou young domestic dove ! 
(He '11 have that jug off with another shove !) 

Dear nursling of the hymeneal nest ! 

(Are those torn clothes his best ?) 

Little epitome of man ! 
(He '11 climb upon the table, that 's his plan !) 
Touched with the beauteous tints of dawning life — 

(He 's got a knife !) 

Thou enviable being ! 
No storms, no clouds, in thy blue sky foreseeing, 

Play on, play on, 

My elfin John ! 
Toss the light ball — bestride the stick — 
(I knew so many cakes would make him sick !) 

With fancies buoyant as the thistle-down, 
Prompting the face grotesque, and antic brisk, 



HUMOROUS SELECTIONS. 521 

With many a lamb-like frisk, 
(He 's got the scissors, snipping at your gown !) 

Thou pretty opening rose ! 
(Go to your mother, child, and wipe your nose !) 
Balmy and breathing music like the south, 
(He really brings my heart into my mouth !) 
Fresh as the morn, and .brilliant as the star, — 

(I wish that window had an iron bar !) 
Bold as the hawk, yet gentle as the dove, — 

(I '11 tell you what, my love, 
I cannot write unless, he 's sent above.) t. Hood. 



CCCLIX. 

THE HEIGHT OF THE RIDICULOUS. 

j" WROTE some lines, once on a time 
A In wondering merry mood, 
And thought, as usual, men would say 
They were exceeding good. 

They were so queer, so very queer, 

I laughed as I would die ; 
Albeit in the general way, 

A sober man am I. 

I called my servant, and he came ; 

How kind it was of him, 
To mind a slender man like me, 

He of the mighty limb ! 

" These to the printer," I exclaimed, 

And, in my humorous way, 
I added (as a trifling jest), 

" There '11 be the devil to pay." 

He took the paper, and I watched, 
And saw him peep within ; 



522 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

At the first line he read, his face 
Was all upon a grin. 

He read the next ; the grin grew broad, 

And shot from ear to ear ; 
He read the third ; a chuckling noise 

I now began to hear. 

The fourth ; he broke into a roar ; 

The fifth ; his waistband split ; 
The sixth ; he burst five buttons off, 

And tumbled in a fit. 

Ten days and nights, with sleepless eye, 

I watched that wretched man ; 
And since, I never dare to write 

As funny as I can. 0. W. Holmes, 



CCCLX. 
THE SEPTEMBER GALE. 

T 9M not a chicken ; I have seen 
- 1 - Full many a chill September, 
And though I was a youngster then, 

That gale I well remember ; 
The day before my kite-string snapped, 

And I, my kite pursuing, 
The wind whisked off my palm-leaf hat ; 

For me two storms were brewing ! 

It came as quarrels sometimes do, 

When married pairs get clashing ; 
There was a heavy sigh or two, 

Before the fire was flashing, — 
A little stir among the clouds, 

Before they rent asunder, — 
A little rocking of the trees, 

And then came on the thunder. 



HUMOROUS SELECTIONS. 523 

Oh ! how the ponds and rivers boiled, 

And how the shingles rattled ! 
And oaks were scattered on the ground, 

As if the Titans battled ; 
And all above was in a howl, 

And all below a clatter, — 
The earth was like a frying-pan, 

Or some such hissing matter. 

It chanced to be our washing-day, 

And all our things were drying ; 
The storm came roaring through the lines, 

And set them all a flying ; 
I saw the shirts and petticoats 

Go riding off like witches ; 
I lost, ah ! bitterly I wept, — 

I lost my Sunday breeches ! 

I saw them straddling through the air, 

Alas ! too late to win them ; 
I saw them chase the clouds as if 

A demon had been in them ; 
They were my darlings and my pride, - — 

My boyhood's only riches, — 
" Farewell, farewell," I faintly cried, — 

" My breeches ! O my breeches ! " 

That night I saw them in my dreams, 

How changed from what I knew them ! 
The dews had steeped their faded thread, 

The winds had whistled through them ; 
I saw the wide and ghastly rents, 

Where demon claws had torn them ; 
A hole was in their amplest part, 

As if an imp had worn them. 

I have had many happy years, 
And tailors kind and clever, 
But those young pantaloons have gone 



524 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

Forever and forever ! 
And not till fate has cut the last 

Of all my earthly stitches, 
This aching heart shall cease to mourn 

My loved, my long-lost breeches ! o. W. Holmes. 



CCCLXI. 
LOVE AND MURDER. 

TN Manchester a maiden dwelt, 

Her name was Phoebe Brown ; 
Her cheeks were red, her hair was black, 

And she was considered by good judges to be by 
all odds the best looking girl in town. 

Her age was nearly seventeen, 

Her eyes were sparkling bright ; 
A very lovely girl she was, 

And for about a year and a half there had been a 
young man paying his attention to her, by the name of Reuben 
Wright. 

Now Reuben was a nice young man 

As any in the town, 
And Phoebe loved him very dear, 

But, on account of his being obliged to work for a 
living, he never could make himself agreeeble to old Mr. and 
Mrs. Brown. 

Her parents were resolved 
Another she should wed, 
A rich old miser in the place, 

And old Brown frequently declared, that rather 
than have his daughter marry Reuben Wright, he'd sooner 
knock him in the head. 



But Phoebe's heart was brave and strong, 
She feared not her parents' frowns ; 



HUMOROUS SELECTIONS. 525 

And as for Reuben Wright so bold, 

I've heard him say more than fifty times that 
(with the exception of Phoebe) he did n't care a cent for the 
whole race of Browns. 

So Phoebe Brown and Reuben Wright 

Determined they would marry ; 
Three weeks ago last Tuesday night, 

They started for old Parson Webster's, determined 
to be united in the holy bonds of matrimony, though it was tre- 
mendous dark, and rained like the old Harry. 

But Captain Brown was wide awake, 

He loaded up his gun, 
And then pursued the loving pair ; 

He overtook 'em when they 'd got about half way 
to the Parson's, and then Reuben and Phoebe started off upon 
the run. 

Old Brown then took a deadly aim 

Toward young Reuben's head, 
But, oh ! it was a bleeding shame, 

He made a mistake, and shot his only daughter, 
and had the unspeakable anguish of seeing her drop right down 
stone dead. 

Then anguish filled young Reuben's heart, 

And vengeance crazed his brain, 
He drew an awful jack-knife out, 

And plunged it into old Brown about fifty or sixty 
times, so that it 's very doubtful about his ever coming to again. 

The briny drops from Reuben's eyes 
In torrents poured down, — 

And in this melancholy and heart-rending manner 
terminates the history of Reuben and Phoebe, and likewise old 
Captain Brown. Anonymous. 




526 THE UNION SPEAKER. 



CCCLXII. 
THE REMOVAL. 

A NERVOtJS old gentleman, tired of trade, — 

By which, though, it seems, he a fortune had made,- 
Took a house 'twixt two sheds, at the skirts of the town, 
Which he meant, at his leisure, to buy and pull down. 

This thought struck his mind when he viewed the estate ; 
But, alas ! when he entered he found it too late ; 
For in each dwelt a smith ; — a more hard-working two 
Never doctored a patient, or put on a shoe. 

At six in the morning, their anvils, at work, 
Awoke our good squire, who raged like a Turk. 
" These fellows," he cried, " such a clattering keep, 
That I never can get above eight hours of sleep." 

From morning till night they keep thumping away, — 
No sound but the anvil the whole of the day ; 
His afternoon's nap and his daughter's new song, 
Were banished and spoiled by their hammer's ding-dong. 

He offered each Vulcan to purchase his shop ; 
But, no ! they were stubborn, determined to stop ; 
At length, (both his spirits and health to improve,) 
He cried, " I '11 give each fifty guineas to move." 

" Agreed ! " said the pair ; " that will make us amends." 
" Then come to my house, and let us part friends ; 
You shall dine ; and we '11 drink on this joyful occasion, 
That each may live long in his new habitation." 

He gave the two blacksmiths a sumptuous regale ; 

He spared not provisions, his wine, nor his ale ; 

So much was he pleased with the thought that each guest 

Would take from him noise, and restore him to rest. 



HUMOROUS SELECTIONS. 527 

■ And now," said he, " tell me, where mean you to move ? 
I hope to some spot where your trade will improve." . 
" Why, sir," replied one with a grin on his phiz, 
" Tom Forge moves to my shop, and I move to his 1 " 

Anonymous. 



CCCLXITI. 

NONGTONGPAW. 

TOHN Bull for pastime took a prance, 
" Some time ago, to peep at France ; 
To talk of sciences and arts, 
And knowledge gained in foreign parts. 
Monsieur, obsequious, heard him speak, 
And answered John in heathen Greek : 
To all he asked, 'bout all he saw, 
'T was " Monsieur, je vous n'entends pas." 

John, to the Palais-Royal came, 

Its splendor almost struck him dumb. 

" I say, whose house is that there here ? " 

" House ! Je vous n'entends pas, Monsieur." 

" What, Nongtongpaw again ! " cries John ; 

" This fellow is some mighty Don : 

No doubt he 's plenty for the maw, 

I '11 breakfast with this Nongtongpaw." 

John saw Versailles from Marie's height, 

And cried, astonished at the sight, 

" Whose fine estate is that there here ? " 

" State ! Je vous n'entends pas, Monsieur." 

" His ? What the land and houses too ? 

The fellow 's richer than a Jew : 

On everything he lays his claw ! 

I should like to dine with Nongtongpaw." 

Next tripping came a courtly fair, 
John cried, enchanted with her air, 



528 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

" What lovely wench is that there here ? " 
. " Ventch ! Je vous n'entends pas, Monsieur." 
" What, he again ? Upon my life ! 
A palace, lands, and then a wife 
Sir Joshua might delight to draw : 
I should like to sup with Nongtongpaw. 

But hold ! whose funeral 's that ? " cries John. 
" Je vous n'entends paw." — " What, is he gone ? 
Wealth, fame, and beauty could not save 
Poor Nongtongpaw then from the grave ! 
His race is run, his game is up, — 
I 'd with him breakfast, dine and sup ; 
But since he chooses to withdraw, 
Good-night t' ye, Mounseer Nongtongpaw." 

C. Dibdin. 
♦ 

ccclxiv. 
THE SWELL'S SOLILOQUY ON THE WAR. 

T DON'T appwove this hawid waw ; 
-*■ Those dweadful bannahs hawt my eyes ; 
And guns and dwums are such a baw, — 
Why don't the pawties compwamise ? 

Of cawce, the twoilet has its chawms ; 

But why must all the vulgah crowd 
Pawsist in spawting unifawms 

In cullaws so extwemely loud ? 

And then the ladies — pwecious deahs ! — 
I mawk the change on ev'wy bwow ; 

Bai Jove ! I weally have my feahs 
They wathah like the howid wow ! 

To hear the chawming cweatures talk, 

Like patwons of the bloody wing, 
Of waw and all its dawty wawk, — 

It does n't seem a pwappah thing ! 



HUMOROUS SELECTIONS. 529 

I called at Mrs. Gween's last night, 

To see her niece, Miss Mary Hertz, 
And found her making — cwushing sight ! — 

The weddest kind of flannel shirts ! 

Of cawce I wose and saught the daw, 

With fewy flashing from my eyes ! 
I can't appwove this hawid waw ; — 

Why don't the pawties compwamise ? 

Vanity Fair. 



CCCLXV. 

THE ALARMED SKIPPER. 

1%/TANY a long, long year ago, 

Nantucket skippers had a plan 
Of finding out, though " lying low," 

How near New York their schooners ran. 

They greased the lead before it fell, 

And then, by sounding through the night, 

Knowing the soil that stuck, so well, 

They always guessed their reckoning right. 

A skipper gray, whose eyes were dim, 
Could tell by tasting, just the spot, 

And so below, he 'd " dowse the glim," — 
After, of course, his " something hot." 

Snug in his berth, at eight o'clock, 
This ancient skipper might be found ; 

No matter how his craft would rock, 

He slept. — for skippers' naps are sound ! 

The watch on deck would now and then 

Run down and wake him, with the lead ; 
He 'd up and taste, and tell the men 
.How many miles they went ahead. 
34 



530 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

One night, 't was Jotham Marden's watch, 
A curious wag, — the pedler's son ; 

And so he mused (the wanton wretch), 
" To-night I'll have a grain of fun. 

" We 're all a set of stupid fools, 

To think the skipper knows by tasting, 

What ground he 's on ; Nantucket schools 

Don't teach such stuff, with all their basting ! * 

And so he took the well-greased lead, 

And rubbed it o'er a box of earth 
That stood on deck — (a parsnip bed), — 

And then he sought the skipper's berth. 

" Where are we now, sir, please to taste." 
The skipper yawned, put out his tongue, 

Then oped his eyes in wondrous haste, 
And then upon the floor he sprung ! 

The skipper stormed, and tore his hair, 

Thrust on his boots, and roared to Marden, — 

" Nantucket 's sunk, and here we are 

Eight over old Marm Hackett's garden ! " 

J. T. Fields. 



CCCLXVL 

THE COLD-WATER MAN. 

TT was an honest fisherman, 
-^ I knew him passing well ; 
And he lived by a little pond, 
Within a little dell. 

A grave and quiet man was he, 
Who loved his hook and rod ; 

So even ran his line of life 
His neighbors thought it odd. 



HUMOROUS SELECTIONS. 531 

For science and for books, he said 

He never had a wish ; 
No school to him was worth a fig, 

Except a school of fish. 

In short, this honest fisherman, 

All other tools forsook ; 
And though no vagrant man was he, 

He lived, by hook and crook. 

He ne'er aspired to rank or wealth, 

Nor cared about a name ; 
For though much famed for fish was he, 

He never Jished for fame ! 

To charm the fish he never spoke, 

Although his voice was fine ; 
He found the most convenient way 

Was just to drop a line I 

And many a gudgeon of the pond, t 

If they could speak to-day, 
Would own, with grief, the angler had 

A mighty taking way ! 

One day, while fishing on a log, 

He mourned his want of luck, — 
When suddenly, he felt a bite, 

And jerking — caught a duck / 

Alas ! that day this fisherman 

Had taken too much grog ; 
And being but a landsman, too, 

He could n't keep the log / 

'T was all in vain with might and main 

He strove to reach the shore ; 
Down, down he went, to feed the fish 

He 'd baited oft before ! 



532 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

The jury gave their verdict, that 

'T was nothing else but gin, 
That caused the fisherman to be 

So sadly taken in ; 

Though one stood out upon a whim, 
And said the angler's slaughter, 

To be exact about the fact, 
Was clearly gin-and-water. 

The moral of this mournful tale, 

To all is plain and clear, — 
That drinking habits bring a man 

Too often to his bier ; 

Ajid he who scorns to " take the pledge," 

And keep the promise fast, 
May be, in spite of fate, a stiff 

Cold-water man, at last ! J. G. Saxe. 



cccLxvn. 
WHITTLING. 



rriHE Yankee boy, before he 's sent to school, 

Well knows the mysteries of that magic tool, 
The pocket-knife. To that his wistful eye 
Turns, while he hears his mother's lullaby ; 
His hoarded cents he gladly gives to get it, 
Then leaves no stone unturned till he can whet it ; 
And, in the education of the lad, 
No little part that implement hath had, — 
His pocket-knife to the young whittler brings 
A growing knowledge of material things. 

Projectiles, music, and the sculptor's art, 
His chestnut whistle and his shingle dart, 
His elder pop-gun with its hickory rod, 
Its sharp explosion and rebounding wad, 



HUMOROUS SELECTIONS. 533 

His corn-stalk fiddle, and the deeper tone 

That murmurs from his pumpkin-stalk trombone, 

Conspire to teach the boy. To these succeed 

His bow, his arrow of a feathered reed, 

His windmill, raised the passing breeze to win, 

His water-wheel, that turns upon a pin ; 

Or, if his father lives upon the shore, 

You '11 see his ship, " beam ends upon the floor," 

Full rigged, with raking masts, and timbers stanch 

And waiting, near the wash-tub, for a launch. 

Thus, by his genius and his jack-knife driven, 

Ere long he '11 solve you any problem given ; 

Make any jim-crack, musical or mute, 

A plough, a couch, an organ or a flute ; 

Make you a locomotive or a clock, 

Cut a canal, or build a floating dock, 

Or lead forth Beauty from a marble block ; — 

Make anything, in short, for sea or shore, 

From a child's rattle, to a seventy-four ; — 

Make it, said I ? — Ay, when he undertakes it, 

He '11 make the thing, and the machine that makes it. 

And when the thing is made, — whether it be 
To move on earth, in air, or on the sea ; 
Whether on water, o'er the waves to glide, 
Or, upon land to roll, revolve, or slide ; 
Whether to whirl or jar, to strike or ring, 
Whether it be a piston or a spring, 
Wheel, pulley, tube sonorous, wood or brass, 
The thing designed shall surely come to pass ; 
For, when his hand 's upon it, you may know 
That there 's go in it, and he '11 make it go. 

/. Pierpont. 

CCCLXVIII. 
HOTSPURS ACCOUNT OF A FOP. 
1ITY liege, I did deny no prisoners. 
**■ But, I remember, when the fight was done, 



534 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

When I was dry with rage and extreme toil, 

Breathless and faint, leaning upon my sword, 

Came there a certain lord, neat, trimly dressed, 

Fresh as a bridegroom ; and his chin, new reaped, 

Showed like a stubble land at harvest-home. 

He was perfumed like a milliner ; 

And 'twixt his finger and his thumb, he held 

A pouncet-box, which ever and anon, 

He gave his nose, and took 't away again ; — 

And still he smiled and talked ; 

And, as the soldiers bore dead bodies by, 

He called them — untaught knaves, unmannerly, 

To bring a slovenly unhandsome corse 

Betwixt the wind and his nobility. 

With many holiday and lady terms 
He questioned me ; among the rest, demanded 
My prisoners, in your majesty's behalf. 
I then, all smarting, with my wounds being cold, 
To be so pestered with a popinjay, 
Out of my grief and my impatience, 
Answered neglectingly, I know not what ; 
He should, or he should not ; — for he made me mad, 
To see him shine so brisk, and smell so sweet, 
And talk so like a waiting-gentlewoman, 
Of guns, and drums, and wounds ; (God save the mark !) 
And telling me, the sovereign'st thing on earth 
Was parmaceti for an inward bruise ; 
And that it was a great pity, so it was, 
This villainous saltpetre should be digged 
Out of the bowels of the harmless earth, 
Which many a good tall fellow had destroyed 
So cowardly ; and, but for these vile guns, 
He w r ould himself have been a soldier. 

This bald, unjointed chat of his, my lord, 
I answered indirectly, as I said ; 
And, I beseech you, let not this report 
Come current for an accusation 
Betwixt my love and your high majesty. 

Shakspeare. 



HUMOROUS SELECTIONS. 535 

CCCLXIX. 
HOW TO HAVE WHAT WE LIKE. 

TTARD by a poet's attic lived a chemist, 
Or alchemist, who had a mighty 

Faith in the elixir vitas ; 
And, though unflattered by the dimmest 

Glimpse of success, kept credulously groping 
And grubbing in his dark vocation ; 

Stupidly hoping 
To find the art of changing metals, 
And so coin guineas, from his pots and kettles, 
By mystery of transmutation. 

Our starving poet took occasion 

To seek this conjurer's abode ; 

Not with encomiastic ode, 
Of laudatory dedication, 

But with an offer to impart, 

For twenty pounds, the secret art 
Which should procure, without the pain 

Of metals, chemistry, and fire, 
What he so long had sought in vain, 

And gratify his heart's desire. 

The money paid, our bard was hurried 

To the philosopher's sanctorum, 
Who, as it were sublimed and flurried 

Out of his chemical decorum, 
Crowed, capered, giggled, seemed to spurn his 
Crucibles, retort, and furnace, 

And cried, as lie secured the door, 
And carefully put to the shutter, 

" Now, now, the secret, I implore ! 
For heaven's sake, speak, discover, utter ! " 

With grave and solemn air the poet 
Cried : " List ! 0, list, for thus I show it : 



536 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

Let this plain truth those ingrates strike, 

Who still, though blessed, new blessings crave ; 

That we may all have what we like, 
Simply by liking what we have ! " 



Horace Smith. 



-*- 



CCCLXX. 
THE THREE BLACK CROWS. 

rrwO honest tradesmen meeting in the Strand, 
"^ One took the other briskly by the hand : 
" Hark ye," said he, u 'tis an odd story this, 
About the crows ! " — "I don't know what it is," 
Replied his friend. — " No ? I 'm surprised at that ; 
Where I came from 't is the common chat ; 
But you shall hear : an odd affair indeed ! 
And that it happened, they are all agreed. 
Not to detain you from a thing so strange, 
A gentleman, that lives not far from 'Change, 
This week, in short, as all the alley knows, 
Taking a puke, has thrown up three black crows." 
" Impossible ! " — " Nay, but it 's really true ; 
I had it from good hands, and so may you." 
" From whose, I pray ? " So having named the man, 
Straight to inquire his curious comrade ran. 
" Sir, did you tell ? " — relating the affair — 
" Yes, sir, I did ; and if it 's worth you care, 
Ask Mr. Such-a-one ; he told it me ; 
But, by-the-by, 't was two black crows, not three." 
Resolved to trace so wondrous an event, 
Whip to the third, the virtuoso went. 
" Sir," — and so forth — " Why, yes ; the thing is fact, 
Though in regard to number not exact ; 
It was not two black crows ; 't was only one ; 
The truth of that you may depend upon, 
The gentleman himself told me the case." 
" Where may I find him ? " — " Why, — in such a place. 
Away he goes, and having found him out — 
" Sir, be so good as to resolve a doubt." 



HUMOROUS SELECTIONS. 537 

Then to his last informant he referred, 

And begged to know if true what he had heard. 

" Did you, sir, throw up a black crow ? " — " Not I ! " — 

" Bless me ! how people propagate a lie ! 

Black crows have been thrown up, three, two, and one, 

And here I find at last all comes to none ! 

Did you say nothing of a crow at all ? " 

" Crow — crow — perhaps I might, now I recall 

The matter over." — " And pray, sir, what was 't ? " 

" Why, I was horrid sick, and, at the last, 

I did throw up, and told my neighbor so, 

Something that was as black, sir, as a crow." 

Byrom. 



CCCLXXI. 
HELPS TO READ. 

A CERTAIN artist — I Ve forgot his name — 
•*-^- Had got, for making spectacles, a fame, 
Or, " helps to read," as, when they first were sold, 
Was writ upon his glaring sign in gold ; 
And, for all uses to be had from glass, 
His were allowed by readers to surpass. 
There came a man into his shop one day — 
" Are you the spectacle contriver, pray ? " 
" Yes sir," said he, u I can in that affair 
Contrive to please you, if you want a pair." 
" Can you ? pray do, then." So at first he chose 
To place a youngish pair upon his nose ; 
And, book produced, to see how they would fit, 
Asked how he liked them. " Like 'em ! — not a bit." 
" Then, sir, I fancy, if you please to try, 
These in my hand will better suit your eye ? " — 
" No, but they don't." — " Well, come, sir, if you please, 
Here is another sort ; we '11 e'en try these ; 
Still somewhat more they magnify the letter, 
Now, sir ? " — " Why, now, I 'm not a bit the better."— 
" No ! here, take these which magnify still more, — 
How do they fit"?- " Like all the rest before ! " 



538 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

In short, they tried a whole assortment through, 

But all in vain, for none of them would do. 

The operator, much surprised to find 

So odd a case, thought, sure the man is blind ! 

" What sort of eyes can you have got ? " said he. 

" Why very good ones, friend, as you may see." 

" Yes, I perceive the clearness of the ball. 

Pray let me ask you — Can you read at all ? " 

" No ! you great blockhead ! — If I could, what need 

Of paying you for any — l helps to read ? ' " 

And so he left the maker in a heat, 

Resolved to post him for an arrant cheat. Byrom. 



BOOK FOUETH. 



STANDARD SELECTIONS 



OF 



DIALOGUES. 



BOOK FOURTH. 



STANDARD DIALOGUES. 



cccLxxn 

PRINCE ARTHUR OF BRET AG NE. 

Prince Arthur — Hubert — Attendants. 

XT UB. Heat me these irons hot ; and look thou stand 
Within the arras ; when I strike my foot 
Upon the bosom of the ground, rush forth, 
And bind the boy which you shall find with me, 
Fast to the chair : be heedful : hence, and watch. 

1 Att. I hope your warrant will bear out the deed. 

Hub. Uncleanly scruples ! Fear not you : look to it. 

[Exeunt Attendants.'] 
Young lad, come forth ; I have to say with you. [Enter Arth.~] 

Arth. Good morrow, Hubert. 

Hub. Good morrow, little prince. 

Arth. As little prince (having so great a title 
To be more prince) as may be. — You are sad. 

Hub. Indeed, I have been merrier. 

Arth. Mercy on me ! 

Methinks nobody should be sad but I : 
Yet, I remember, when I was in France, 
Young gentlemen would be as sad as night, 
Only for wantonness. By my Christendom, 
So I were out of prison, and kept sheep, 
I should be merry as the day is long ; 
And so I would be here, but that I doubt 
My uncle practices more harm to me. 
He is afraid of me, and I of him. 



542 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

Is it my fault that I was Geffrey's son ? 

No, indeed, is 't not ; and I would to Heaven, 

I were your son, so you would love me, Hubert. 

Hub. If I talk to him, with his innocent prate, 
He will awake my mercy, which lies dead : 
Therefore I will be sudden, and despatch. [Aside.'] 

Arth. Are you sick, Hubert ? You look pale to-day. 
In sooth, I would you were a little sick, 
That I might sit all night, and watch with you. 
I warrant, I love you more than you do me. 

Hub. His words do take possession of my bosom. — 
Read here, young Arthur. [Showing a paper."] How now, 
foolish rheum. [Aside. ~\ 

Turning dispiteous torture out of door ! 

I must be brief, lest resolution drop 

Out at mine eyes, in tender womanish tears. — 

Can you not read it ? Is it not fair writ ? 

Arth. Too fairly, Hubert, for so foul effect. 
Must you with hot irons burn out both mine eyes ? 

Hub. Young boy, I must. 

Arth. And will you ? 

Hub. And I will. 

Arth. Have you the heart ? When your head did but ache, 
I knit my handkerchief about your brows, 
(The best I had, a princess wrought it me,) 
And I did never ask it you again ; 
And with my hand at midnight held your head ; 
And, like the watchful minutes to the hour, 
Still and anon cheered up the heavy time ; 
Saying, What lack you? and Where lies your grief? 
Or, What good love may I perform for you ? 
Many a poor man's son would have lain still, 
And ne'er have spoke a loving word to you : 
But you at your sick service had a prince. 
Nay, you may think my love was a crafty love, 
And call it cunning : do, and if you will : 
If Heaven be pleased that you should use me ill, 
Why, then you must. Will you put out mine eyes ? — 
These eyes, that never did, nor never shall, 



STANDARD DIALOGUES. 543 

So much as frown on you ? 

Hub. I have sworn to do it ; 

And with hot irons must I burn them out. 

Arth. Ah, none, but in this iron age, would do it ! 
The iron of itself, though heat red-hot, 
Approaching near these eyes, would drink my tears, 
And quench its fiery indignation, 
Even in the matter of mine innocence : 
Nay, after that, consume away in rust, 
But for containing fire to harm mine eye. 
Are you more stubborn-hard than hammered iron ? 
An if an angel should have come to me, 
And told me, Hubert should put out mine eyes, 
I would not have believed him ; no tongue, but Hubert's. 

Hub. Come forth. [Stamps. — Reenter Attendants.] 

Do as I bid you. 

Arth. 0, save me, Hubert, save me ! My eyes are out, 
Even with the fierce looks of these bloody men. 

Hub. Give me the iron, I say, and bind him here. 

Arth. Alas ! what need you be so boisterous rough ? 
I will not struggle, I will stand stone-still. 
For Heaven's sake, Hubert, let me not be bound ! 
Nay, hear me, Hubert ! drive these men away, 
And I will sit as quiet as a lamb ; 
I will not stir, nor wince, nor speak a word, 
Nor look upon the irons angrily. 
Thrust but these men away, and I '11 forgive you, 
Whatever torment you do put me to. 

Hub. Go, stand within ; let me alone with him. 

1 Att. I am best pleased to be away from such a deed. 

\_Exeunt Attendants."] 

Arth. Alas ! I then have chid away my friend : 
He hath a stern look, but a gentle heart. 
Let him come back, that his compassion may 
Give life to yours. 

Bub. Come, boy, prepare yourself. 

Arth. Is there no remedy ? 

Hub. None, but to lose your eyes. 

Arth. O, Heaven ! — that there were but a mote in yours, 



544 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

A grain, a dust, a gnat, a wandering hair, 

Any annoyance in that precious sense ! 

Then, feeling what small things are boisterous there, 

Your vile intent must needs seem horrible. 

Hub. Is this your promise ? Go to, hold your tongue. 

Arth. Hubert, the utterance of a brace of tongues 
Must needs want pleading for a pair of eyes. 
Let me not hold my tongue ; let me not, Hubert ! 
Or, Hubert, if you will, cut out my tongue, 
So I may keep mine eyes ; O, spare mine eyes, 
Though to no use, but still to look on you ! 
Lo, by my troth, the instrument is cold, 
And would not harm me. 

Hub. I can heat it, boy. 

Arth. No, in good sooth ; the fire is dead with grief, — 
Being create for comfort, — to be used 
In undeserved extremes. See else yourself: 
There is no malice in this burning coal ; 
The breath of heaven hath blown his spirit out, 
And strewed repentant ashes on his head. 

Hub. But with my breath I can revive it, boy. 

Arth. And if you do, you will but make it blush, 
And glow with shame of your proceedings, Hubert ; 
Nay, it, perchance, will sparkle in your eyes, 
And, like a dog, that is compelled to fight, 
Snatch at his master that does tarre him on. 
All things, that you should use to do me wrong, 
Deny their office : only you do lack 
That mercy, which fierce fire, and iron, extends, — 
Creatures of note for mercy-lacking uses. 

Hub. Well, see to live ; I will not touch thine eyes 
For all the treasure that thine uncle owes. 
Yet I am sworn, and I did purpose, boy, 
With this same very iron to burn them out. 

Arth. 0, now you look like Hubert ! all this while 
You were disguised. 

Hub. Peace ; no more : Adieu ! — 

Your uncle must not know but you are dead : 
I '11 fill these dogged spies with false reports. 



STANDARD DIALOGUES. 545 

And, pretty child, sleep doubtless, and secure 
That Hubert, for the wealth of all the world, 
Will not offend thee. 

Arth. O, Heaven ! — I thank you, Hubert. 

Hub. Silence : no more. Go closely in with me : 
Much danger do I undergo for thee. Shakspeare. 



CCCLXXIII. 
QUARREL OF BRUTUS AND CASSIUS. 

CASSIUS. That you have wronged me, doth appear in 
this : 
You have condemned and noted Lucius Pella 
For taking bribes here of the Sardians ; 
Wherein, my letters, praying on his side, 
Because I knew the man, were slighted off. 

Brutus. You wronged yourself to write in such a case. 

Cas. At such a time as this, it is not meet 
That every nice offence should bear its comment. 

Bru. Let me tell you, Cassius, you yourself 
Are much condemned to have an itching palm ; 
To sell and mart your offices for gold, 
To undeservers. 

Cas. I an itching palm ? 

You know that you are Brutus that speak this, 
Or, by the gods, this speech were else your last ! 

Bru. The name of Cassius honors this corruption, 
And chastisement doth therefore hide his head. 

Gas. Chastisement ! 

Bru. Remember March, the Ides of March remember ! 
Did not great Julius bleed for justice' sake ? 
What villain touched his body, that did stab, 
And not for justice ? — What ! shall one of us, 
That struck the foremost man of all this world, 
But for supporting robbers, — shall we now 
Contaminate our fingers with base bribes, 
And sell the mighty space of our large honors 
For so much trash as may be grasped thus ? — 
35 



546 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

I had rather be a dog, and bay the moon, 
Than such a Roman ! 

Cas. Brutus, bay not me ! 

I '11 not endure it. You forget yourself, 
To hedge me in ; I am a soldier, I, 
Older in practice, abler than yourself 
To make conditions. 

Bru. Go to ; you are not, Cassius. 

Cas. I am. 

Bru. I say you are not. 

Cas. Urge me no more : I shall forget myself. 
Have mind upon your health ; tempt me no farther ! 

Bru. Away, slight man ! 

Cas. Is 't possible ? 

Bru. Hear me, for I will speak. 

Must I give way and room to your rash choler ? 
Shall I be frighted when a madman stares ? 

Cas O ye gods ! ye gods ! Must I endure all this ? 

Bru. All this ? ay, more ! Fret till your proud heart break ; 
Go, show your slaves how choleric you are, 
And make your bondmen tremble ! Must I budge ? 
Must I observe you ? Must I stand and crouch 
Under your testy humor ? By the gods, 
You shall digest the venom of your spleen, 
Though it do split you ; for, from this day forth, 
I '11 use you for my mirth, — yea for my laughter, 
When you are waspish ! 

Cas. Is it come to this ? 

Bru. You say, you are a better soldier : 
Let it appear so ; make your vaunting true, 
And it shall please me well. For mine own part, 
I shall be glad to learn of noble men. 

Cas. You wrong me every way ; you wrong me, Brutus : 
I said, an elder soldier, not a better. 
Did I say, better ? 

Bru. If you did, I care not. 

Cas. When Caesar lived, he durst not thus have moved me. 

Bru. Peace, peace ; you durst not so have tempted him ! 

Cas. ■ I durst not ? 

Bru. No. 



STANDARD DIALOGUES. 547 

Cas. What ? durst not tempt him ? 

Bru. For your life, you durst not ! 

Cas. Do not presume too much upon my love ; 
I may do that I shall be sorry for. 

Bru. You have done that you should be sorry for. 
There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats ; 
For I am armed so strong in honesty, 
That they pass by me as the idle wind, 
Which I respect not. I did send to you 
For certain sums of gold, which you denied me ; — 
For I can raise no money by vile means : 
By Heaven, I had rather coin my heart, 
And drop my blood for drachmas, than to wring 
From the hard hands of peasants their vile trash 
By any indirection ! I did send 
To you for gold to pay my legions, 
Which you denied me. Was that done like Cassius ? 
Should I have answered Caius Cassius so ? 
When Marcus Brutus grows so covetous, 
To lock such rascal counters from his friends, 
Be ready, gods, with all your thunderbolts, 
Dash him to pieces ! 

Cas. I denied you not. 

Bru. You did. 

Cas. I did not ; — he was but a fool 

That brought my answer back. — Brutus hath rived my heart ; 
A friend should bear his friend's infirmities, 
But Brutus makes mine greater than they are. 

Bru. I do not, till you practise them on me. 

Cas. You love me not. 

Bru. I do not like your faults. 

Cas. A friendly eye could never see such faults. 

Bru. A flatterer's would not, though they do appear 
As huge as high Olympus. 

Cas. Come, Antony, and young Octavius, come, 
Revenge yourselves alone on Cassius, 
For Cassius is aweary of the world ; 
Hated by one he loves ; braved by his brother ; 
Checked like a bondman ; all his faults observed, 



548 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

Set in a note-book, learned, and conned by rote, 

To cast into my teeth. O, I could weep 

My spirit from mine eyes ! — There is my dagger, 

And here my naked breast ; within a heart 

Dearer than Plutus' mine, — richer than gold ; 

If that thou be'st a Roman, take it forth ; 

I, that denied thee gold, will give my heart : 

Strike as thou didst at Caesar ; for, I know, 

When thou didst hate him worst, then lovedst him better 

Than ever thou lovedst Cassius ! 

Bru. Sheathe your dagger ; 

Be angry when you will, it shall have scope ; 
Do what you will, dishonor shall be humor. 
O Cassius, you are yoked with a lamb 
That carries anger, as the flint bears fire ; 
Who, much enforced, shows a hasty spark, 
And straight is cold again. 

Cas. Hath Cassius lived 

To be but mirth and laughter to his Brutus, 
When grief, and blood ill-tempered, vexeth him ? 

Bru. When I spoke that, I was ill-tempered, too. 

Cas. Do you confess so much ? Give me your hand. 

Bru. And my heart too. 

Cas. 0, Brutus ! 

Bru. What 's the matter ? 

Cas. Have you not love enough to bear with me, 
When that rash humor, which my mother gave me, 
Makes me forgetful ? 

Bru. Yes, Cassius ; and, from henceforth, 

When you are over-earnest with your Brutus, 

He '11 think your mother chides, and leave you so. 

Shakspeare. 



cccLXxrv. 

DOGBERRY'S CHARGE. 

Dogberry — Verges — The Watch. 

I~^OG. Are you good men and true ? 

-^ Ver. Yea, or else it were a pity but they should suffer 
salvation, body and soul. 



STANDARD DIALOGUES. 549 

Dog. Nay, that were a punishment too good for them, if 
they should have any allegiance in them, being chosen for the 
prince's watch. 

Ver. Well, give them their charge, neighbor Dogberry. 

Dog. First, who think you the most desartless man to be 
constable ? 

1 Watch. Hugh Oatcake, sir, or George Seacoal ; for they 
can write and read. 

Dog. Come hither, neighbor Seacoal. God hath blessed 
you with a good name : to be a well-favored man is the gift of 
fortune, but to write and read comes by nature. 

2 Watch. Both which, master constable, — 

Dog. You have ; I knew it would be your answer. Well, 
for your favor, sir, why, give God thanks, and make no boast of 
it ; and for your writing and reading, let that appear when there 
is no need of such vanity. You are thought here to be the most 
senseless and fit man for the constable of the watch ; therefore, 
bear you the lantern. This is your charge ; — you shall com- 
prehend all vagrom men ; you are to bid any .man stand, in the 
prince's name. 

2 Watch. How, if he will not stand ? 

Dog. Why, then, take no note of him, but let him go ; and 
presently call the rest of the watch together, and thank God you 
are rid of a knave. 

Ver. If he will not stand when he is bidden, he is none of 
the prince's subjects. 

Dog. True, and they are to meddle with none but the 
prince's subjects. — You shall also make no noise in the streets : 
for, for the watch to babble and talk, is most tolerable, and not 
to be endured. 

2 Watch. We will rather sleep than talk : we know what 
belongs to a watch. 

Dog. Why, you speak like an ancient and most quiet watch- 
man ; for I cannot see how sleeping should offend : only, have a 
care that your bills be not stolen. — Well, you are to call at 
all the ale-houses, and bid those that are drunk get them to bed. 

2 Watch. How, if they will not ? 

Dog. Why, then, let them alone till they are sober ; if they 
make you not then the better answer, you may say, they are not 
the men you took them for. 



550 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

2 Watch. Well, sir. 

Dog. If you meet a thief, you may suspect him, by virtue 
of your office, to be no true man ; and, for such kind of men, the 
less you meddle or make with them, why, the more is for your 
honesty. 

2 Watch. If we know him to be a thief, shall we not lay 
hands on him? 

Dog. Truly, by your office, you may ; but, I think, they 
that touch pitch will be defiled : the most peaceable way for you, 
if you do take a thief, is, to let him show himself what he is, and 
steal out of your company. 

Ver. You have been always called a merciful man, partner. 

Dog. Truly, I would not hang a dog, by my will ; much 
more a man who hath any honesty in him. 

Ver. If you hear a child cry in the night, you must call to 
the nurse, and bid her still it. 

2 Watch. How, if the nurse be asleep, and will not hear us. 

Dog. Why, then, depart in peace, and let the child wake 
her with crying : for the ewe that will not hear her lamb when 
it baes, will never answer a calf when it bleats. 
Ver. 'Tis very true. 

Dog. This is the end of the charge. You, constable, are to 
present the prince's own person : if you meet the prince in the 
night, you may stay him. 

Ver. Nay, by 'r lady, that, I think, he cannot. 

Dog. Five shillings to one on 't, with any man that knows 
the statues, he may stay him : marry, not without the prince be 
willing : for, indeed, the watch ought to offend no man, and it is 
an offence to stay a man against his will. 
Ver. By 'r lady, I think, it be so. 

Dog. Ha, ha, ha ! Well, masters, good night : an there be 
any matter of weight chances, call up me : keep your fellows' 
counsels and your own, and good-night. — Come, neighbor. 

2 Watch. Well, masters, we hear our charge : let us go sit 
here upon the church-bench till two, and then all to bed. 

Dog. One word more, honest neighbors : I pray you, watch 
about Signior Leonato's door, for the wedding being there to- 
morrow, there is a great coil to-night. — Adieu ; be vigilant, I 

beseech you. Shakspeare. 



STANDARD DIALOGUES. 551 

CCCLXXV. 
INDIGESTION. 

Dr. Gregory — Patient. 

[Scene. — Dr. Gregory's Study. Enter a plump Glasgow mer- 
chant.'] 

~P>A. Good morning, Dr. Gregory ! I 'm just come into 

- 1 - Edinburg about some law business, and I thought when 
I was here, at any rate, I might just as weel take your advice, 
sir, .about my trouble. 

Dr. Pray, sir, sit down. And now, my good sir, what may 
your trouble be ? 

Pa. Indeed, Doctor, I 'm not very sure ; but I 'm thinking 
it 's a kind of weakness that makes me dizzy at times, and a 
kind of pinkling about my stomach ; — I 'm just na right. 

Dr. You are from the West country, I should suppose, sir ? 

Pa. Yes, sir, from Glasgow. 

Dr. Ay ; pray, sir, are you a glutton ? 

Pa, God forbid, sir ; I 'm one of the plainest men living in 
all the West country. 

Dr. Then, perhaps, you are a drunkard ? 

Pa. No, Dr. Gregory ; thank God, no one can accuse me of 
that. I 'm of the Dissenting persuasion, Doctor, and an Elder ; 
so you may suppose I 'm na drunkard. 

Dr. I '11 suppose no such thing till you tell me your mode of 
life. I'm so much puzzled with your symptoms, sir, that I 
would wish to hear in detail what you do eat and drink. When 
do you breakfast, and what do you take at it ? 

Pa. I breakfast at nine o'clock ; take a cup of coffee, and 
one or two cups of tea, a couple of eggs, and a bit of ham or 
kipper salmon, or, may be, both, if they're good, and two or 
three rolls and butter. 

Dr. Do you eat no honey, or jelly, or jam, at breakfast ? 

Pa. Oh, yes, sir ! but I don't count that as anything. 

Dr. Come, this is a very moderate breakfast. What kind 
of a dinner do you make ? 

Pa. Oh, sir, I eat a very plain dinner indeed ; some soup, 



552 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

and some fish, and a little plain roast or boiled ; for I dinna care 
for made dishes ; I think, some way, they never satisfy the 
appetite. 

Dr. You take a little pudding, then, and afterwards some 
cheese. 

Pa. Oh, yes ! though I don't care much about them. 

Dr. You take a glass of ale and porter with your cheese ? 

Pa. Yes, one or the other ; but seldom both. 

Dr. You West-country people generally take a glass of High- 
land whiskey after dinner. 

Pa. Yes, we do ; it 's good for digestion. 

Dr. Do you take any wine during dinner ? 

Pa. Yes, a glass or two of sherry ; but I 'm indifferent as to 
wine during dinner. I drink a good deal of beer. 

Dr. What quantity of port do you drink ? 

Pa. Oh, very little ; not above half a dozen glasses or so. 

Dr. In the West country, it is impossible, I hear, to dine 
without punch ? 

Pa. Yes, sir, indeed, 't is punch we drink chiefly ; but for 
myself, unless I happen to have a friend with me, I never take 
more than a couple of tumblers or so, and that 's moderate. 

Dr. Oh, exceedingly moderate indeed! You then, after 
this slight repast, take some tea and bread and butter? 

Pa. Yes, before I go to the counting-house to read the even- 
ing letters. 

Dr. And on your return you take supper, I suppose. 

Pa. No, sir, I canna be said to take supper ; just something 
before going to bed ; — a rizzered haddock, or a bit of toasted 
cheese, or a half-hundred of oysters, or the like o' that, and may 
be, two thirds of a bottle of ale ; but I take no regular supper. 

Dr. But you take a little more punch after that ? 

Pa. No, sir, punch does not agree with me at bedtime. I 
take a tumbler of warm whiskey-toddy at night ; it is lighter to 
sleep on. 

Dr. So it must be, no doubt. This, you say, is your every- 
day life ; but, upon great occasions, you perhaps exceed a little ? 

Pa. No, sir, except when a friend or two dine with me, or I 
dine out, which, as I am a sober family man, does not often 
happen. 



STANDARD DIALOGUES. 553 

Dr. Not above twice a week ? 

Pa. No ; not oftener. 

Dr. Of course you sleep well and have a good appetite ? 

Pa. Yes, sir, thank God, I have ; indeed, any ill-health that 
I have is about meal-time. 

Dr. [Assuming a severe look, knitting his brow, and lowering 
his eyebrows.^ Now, sir, you are a very pretty fellow indeed. 
You come here and tell me you are a moderate man ; but upon 
examination, I find by your own showing that you are a most 
voracious glutton. You said you were a sober man ; yet, by 
your own showing, you are a beer-swiller,'a dram-drinker, a 
wine-bibber, and a guzzler of punch. You tell me you eat in- 
digestible suppers, and swill toddy to force sleep. I see that 
you chew tobacco. Now, sir, what human stomach can stand 
this ? Go home, sir, and leave your present [course of] riotous 
living, and there are hopes that your stomach may recover its 
tone, and you be in good health, like your neighbors. 

Pa. I 'm sure, Doctor, I 'm very much obliged to you [talcing 
out a bundle of bank-notes~\, I shall endeavor to. 

Dr. Sir, you are not obliged to me : — put up your money, 
sir. Do you think I '11 take a fee for telling you what you know 
as well as myself? Though you 're no physician, sir, you are not 
altogether a fool. Go home, sir, and reform, or, take my word 
for it, your life is not worth half a year's purchase. 



CCCLXXVI. 
THE TWO ROBBERS. 

[Alexander the Great, in his tent. A man with a fierce 
countenance, chained and fettered, brought before him.~] 

A LEX. What ! art thou the Thracian robber, of whose 

^ exploits I have heard so much ? 

Rob. I am a Thracian, and a soldier. 

Alex. A soldier ! — a thief, a plunderer, an assassin ! the 
pest of the country ! I could honor thy courage ; but I must 
detest and punish thy crimes. 



554 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

Rob. What have I done of which you can complain ? 

Alex. Hast thou not set at defiance my authority ; violated 
the public peace, and passed thy life in injuring the persons and 
the properties of thy fellow-subjects ? 

Rob. Alexander, I am your captive — I must hear what you 
please to say, and endure what you please to inflict. But my 
soul is unconquered ; and if I reply at all to your reproaches, I 
will reply like a free man. 

Alex. Speak freely. Far be it for me take the advantage of 
my power, to silence those with whom I deign to converse. 

Hob. I must, then, answer your question by another. How 
have you passed your life ? 

Alex. Like a hero. Ask Fame, and she will tell you. 
Among the brave, I have been the bravest ; among sovereigns, 
the noblest ; among conquerors, the mightiest. 

Rob. And does not Fame speak of me, too ? Was there 
ever a bolder captain of a more valiant band ? Was there ever — 
but I scorn to boast. You yourself know that I have not been 
easily subdued. 

Alex. Still, what are you, but a robber — a base dishonest 
robber ? 

Rob. And what is a conqueror? Have not you, too, gone 
about the earth like an evil genius, blasting the fair fruits of 
peace and industry ; plundering, ravaging, killing without law, 
without justice, merely to gratify an insatiable lust for dominion ? 
All that I have done to a single district, with a hundred follow- 
ers, you have done to whole nations, with a hundred thousand. 
If I have stripped individuals, you have ruined kings and prin- 
ces. If I have burned a few hamlets, you have desolated the 
most flourishing kingdoms and cities of the earth. What is then ' 
the difference, but that as you were born a king, and I a private 
man, you have been able to become a mightier robber than I ? 

Alex. But if I have taken like a king, I have given like a 
king. If I have subverted empires, I have founded greater. I 
have cherished arts, commerce, and philosophy. 

Rob. I, too, have freely given to the poor what I took from 
the rich. I have established order and discipline among the 
most ferocious of mankind ; and I have stretched out my pro- 
tecting arm over the oppressed. I know, indeed, little of the phi- 



STANDARD DIALOGUES. 555 

losophy you talk of ; but I believe neither you nor I shall ever 
atone to the world for the mischief we have done it. 

Alex. Leave me. — Take off his chains, and use him well. 
Are we, then, so much alike ? Alexander to a robber ? — Let 
me reflect. Dr. Aiken. 



CCCLXXVII. 

TEE MISER. 

Lovegold — James. 

T OVE. Where have you been? I have wanted you 

"^ above an hour. 

James. Whom do you want, sir, — your coachman or your 
cook ? for I am both one and t' other. 

Love. I want my cook. 

James. I thought, indeed, it was not your coachman ; for you 
have had no great occasion for him since your last pair of horses 
were starved ; but your cook, sir, shall wait upon you in an 
instant. [Puts off his coachman's great-coat and appears as a 
cook.~\ Now, sir, I am ready for your commands. 

Love. I am engaged this evening to give a supper. 

James. A supper, sir ! I have not heard the word this half- 
year ; a dinner, indeed, now and then ; but, for a supper, I 'm 
almost afraid, for want of practice, my hand is out. 

Love. Leave off your saucy jesting, and see that you provide 
a good supper. 

James. That may be done with a good deal of money, sir. 

Love. Is the mischief in you ? Always money ! Can you 
say nothing else but money, money, money ? My children, my 
servants, my relations, can pronounce nothing but money. 

James. Well, sir ; but how many will there be at table ? 

Love. About eight or ten ; but I will have supper dressed 
but for eight ; for if there be enough for eight, there is enough 
for ten. 

James. Suppose, sir, at one end, a handsome soup ; at the 
other, a fine Westphalia ham and chickens ; on one side, a fillet 
of veal ; on the other, a turkey, or rather a bustard, which may 
be had for about a guinea — 



556 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

Love. Zounds ! is the fellow providing an entertainment for 
my lord mayor and the court of aldermen ? 

James. Then a ragout — 

Love. I '11 have no ragout. Would you burst the good peo- 
ple, you dog ? 

James. Then pray, sir, what will you have ? 

Love. Why, see and provide something to cloy their stom- 
achs : let there be two good dishes of soup-maigre ; a large suet- 
pudding ; some dainty, fat pork-pie, very fat ; a fine, small lean 
breast of mutton, and a large dish with two artichokes. There ; 
that 's plenty and variety. 

James. O, dear — 

Love. Plenty and variety. 

James. But, sir, you must have some poultry. 

Love. No ; I '11 have none. 

James. Indeed, sir, you should. 

Love. Well, then, — kill the old hen, for she has done laying. 

James. Mercy ! sir, how the folks will talk of it ; indeed, 
people say enough of you already. 

Love. Eh ! why, what do the people say, pray ? 

James. Oh, sir, if I could be assured you would not be angry. 

Love. Not at all ; for I 'm always glad to hear what the 
world says of me. 

James. Why, sir, since you will have it, then, they make a 
jest of you everywhere ; nay, of your servants, on your account. 
One says, you pick a quarrel with them quarterly, in order to 
find an excuse to pay them no wages. 

Love. Poh ! poh ! 

James. Another says, you were taken one night stealing 
your own oats from your own horses. 

Love. That must be a lie ; for I never allow them any. 

James. In a word, you are the bye-word everywhere ; and 
you are never mentioned, but by the names of covetous, stingy, 
scraping, old — 

Love. Get along, you impudent villain ! 

James. Nay, sir, you said you would n't be angry. 

Love. Get out, you dog ! you — Fielding. 



STANDARD DIALOGUES. 557 

CCCLXXVIII. 

THE LETTER. 

Squire Egan, and his new Irish servant, Andy. 

Q QUIRE. Well, Andy, you went to the post-office, as I 

^ ordered you ? 

Andy. Yis, sir. 

Squire. Well, what did you find ? 

Andy. A most imperthinent fellow indade, sir. 

Squire. How so ? 

Andy. Says I, as dacent like as a genthleman, " I want a let- 
ther, sir, if you plase." " Who do you want it for ? " said the 
posth-masther, as ye call him. " I want a letter, sir, if you 
plase," said I. " And whom do you want it for ? " said he 
again. " And what 's that to you ? " said I. 

Squire. You blockhead, what did he say to that ? 

Andy. He laughed at me, sir, and said he could not tell what 
letther to give me, unless I told him the direction. 

Squire. Well, you told him then, did you ? 

Andy. " The directions I got," said I, " was to get a letther 
here, — that 's the directions." " Who gave you the direc- 
tions ? " says he. " The masther," said I. " And who 's your 
masther ? " said he. " What consarn is that of yours ? " said I. 

Squire. Did he break your head, then ? 

Andy. No sir. " Why, you stupid rascal," said he, " if you 
don't tell me his name, how can I give you his letther ? " " You 
could give it, if you liked," said I ; " only you are fond of axing 
impident questions, because you think I 'm simple." " Get out 
o' this ! " said he. " Your masther must be as great a goose as 
yourself, to send such a missenger." 

Squire. Well, how did you save my honor, Andy ? 

Andy. " Bad luck to your impidence ! " said I. " Is it Squire 
Egan you dare say goose to ? " " 0, Squire Egan 's your mas- 
ther ? " said he. " Yes," says I ; " Have you anything to say 
agin it?" 

Squire. You got the letter, then, did you ? 

Andy. "Here's a letther for the squire," says he. "You 



558 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

are to pay me eleven pence posthage." " What 'ud I pay 'leven- 
pence for ? " said I. " For posthage" said he. " Did n't I see 
you give that genthleman a letther for four-pence, this blessed 
ininit ? " said I ; " and a bigger letther than this ? Do you think 
I 'm a fool ? " says I ? " Here 's a four-pence for you, — and give 
me the letther." 

Squire. I wonder he did n't break your skull, and let some 
light into it. 

Andy. " Go along, you stupid thafe ! " says he, because I 
would n't let him chate your honor. 

Squire. Well, well ; give me the letter. 

Andy. I have n't it, sir. He would n't give it to me, sir. 

Squire. Who would n't give it to you ? 

Andy. That old chate beyant in the town. 

Squire. Did n't you pay what he asked ? 

Andy. Arrah, sir, why would I let you be chated, when he 
was selling them before my face for four-pence a-piece ? 

Squire. Go back, you scoundrel, or I '11 horsewhip you. 

Andy. He '11 murther me, if I say another word to him about 
the letther ; he swore he would. 

Squire. I'll do it, if he don't, if you are not back in less than 
an hour. [_Exit.~\ 

Andy. O, that the like of me should be murthered for de- 
fending the charrackter of my masther ! It 's not I '11 go to dale 
with that bloody chate again. I '11 off to Dublin, and let the 
letther rot on his dirty hands, bad luck to him ! Anonymous. 



CCCLXXIX. 
THE FRENCHMAN'S LESSON. 

T7RENCHMAN. Ha ! my friend ! I have met one very 
-*- strange name in my lesson. Vat you call Jl-o-u-g-h, — eh ? 
Tutor. " Huff." 

Fr. Tres Men, " huff; " and snuff you spell s-n-o-u-g-h ? 
Tut. Oh! no, no! "Snuff" is spelled s-n-u-f-f. In fact, 
words in o-u-g-h are a little irregular. 

Fr. Ah, very good ! — 't is beautiful language ! H-o-u-g-h 



STANDARD DIALOGUES. 559 

is "huff." I will remember; and of course, c-o-u-g-h is "cuff." 
I have a bad u cuff," — eh ? 

Tut. No, that is wrong ; we say " kauff," — not " cuff." 

Fr. "Kauff," eh? "Huff," and "kauff;" and, — pardon- 
nez-moi, how you call d-o-u-g-h — " duff," — eh ? — is it " duff? " 

Tut. No, not " duff." 

Fr. Not "duff!" Ah, oui ; I understand, — it is "dauff," 

— eh? 

Tut. No ; d-o-u-g-h spells " doe." 

Fr. " Doe ! " It 's ver' fine ! "Wonderful language ! It is 
" doe ; " and t-o-u-g-h is " toe," certainement. My beefsteak is 
very "toe." 

Tut. Oh ! no, no ! You should say " tuff." 

Fr. "Tuff!" And the thing the farmer uses, — how you 
call him, p-l-o-u-g-h, — " pluff," is it? Ha! you smile. I see 
that I am wrong ; it must be " plaff." No ? then it is " ploe," 
like " doe ? " It is one beautiful language ! ver' fine ! — " ploe ! " 

Tut. You are still wrong, my friend ; it is " plow." 

Fr. " Plow ! " Wonderful language ! I 'shall understand 
ver' soon. " Plow," " doe," " kauff ; " — and, one more, r-o-u-g-h, 

— what you call General Taylor, — " Rauff and Ready ? " 
No ? then " Row and Ready ? " 

Tut. No ; r-o-u-g-h spells " ruff." 

Fr. " Ruff," ha ? Let me not forget. R-o-u-g-h is " ruff," 
and b-o-u-g-h is " buff," — ha ? 

Tut. No; "bow." 

Fr. Ah ! 't is ver' simple ! Wonderful language ! But I 
have had vat you call e-n-o-u-g-h, — ha ? Vat you call him ? — 
Ha! ha! ha! Anonymous. 



OCCLXXX. 

HOW TO TELL BAD NEWS. 

Mr. H. — Steward. 

"1%/TR. H. Ha! Steward, how are you, my old boy ? How 

do things go on at home ? 
Steward. Bad enough, your honor ; the magpie 's dead. 
Mr. If. Poor mag ! so he 's gone. How came he to die ? 



560 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

Stew. Over-ate himself, sir. 

Mr. H. Did he, faith ? a greedy dog ; why, what did he get 
he liked so well ? 

Stew. Horse-flesh, sir ; he died of eating horse-flesh. 

Mr. H. How came he to get so much horse-flesh ? 

Stew. All your fathers horses, sir. 

Mr. H. What ! Are they dead, too ? 

Stew. Ay, sir ; they died of over-work. 

Mr. H. And why were they over- worked, pray ? 

Stew. To carry water, sir. 

Mr. H. To carry water ! and what were they carrying water 
for? 

Stew. Sure, sir, to put out the fire. v 

Mr. H. Fire ! what fire ? 

Stew. Oh, sir, your father's house is burned down to the 
ground. 

Mr. H. My father's house burned down ! and how came it 
set on fire ? 

Stew. I think; sir, it must have been the torches. 

Mr. H. Torches ! what torches ? 

Stew. At your mother's funeral. 

Mr. H. My mother dead ! 

Stew. Ah, poor lady, she never looked up after it. 

Mr. H. After what ? 

Stew. The loss of your father. 

Mr. H. My father gone too ? 

Stew. Yes, poor gentleman, he took to his bed as soon as he 
heard of it. 

Mr. H. Heard of what ? 

Stew. The bad news, sir, and please your Honor. 

Mr. H. What ! more miseries ! more bad news ? 

Stew. Yes, sir, your bank has failed, and your credit is lost, 
and you are not worth a shilling in the world. I made bold, sir, 
to come to wait on you about it, for I thought you would like to 
hear the news. Anonymous. 



STANDARD DIALOGUES. 561 

CCCLXXXI. 

THE CHOLERIC FATHER. 

Capt. Absoldtk — Sir Anthony. 

/^1APT. A- Sir, I am delighted to see you here and look- 

^-^ ing so well ! Your sudden arrival at Bath made me 
apprehensive for your health. 

Sir A. Very apprehensive, I dare say, Jack. What, are 
you recruiting here, eh ? 

Capt. A. Yes, sir ; I am on duty. 

Sir A. Well, Jack, I am glad to see you, though I did not 
expect it ; for I was going to write to you on a little matter of 
business. Jack, I have been considering that I grow old and 
infirm, and shall probably not trouble you long. 

Capt. A. Pardon me, sir, I never saw you look more strong 
and hearty ; and I pray fervently that you may continue so. 

Sir A. I hope your prayers may be heard, with all my 
heart. Well, then, Jack, I have been considering that as I am 
so strong and hearty, I may continue to plague you a long time. 
Now, Jack, I am sensible that the income of your commission, 
and what I have hitherto allowed you, is but a small pittance for 
a lad of your spirit. 

Capt. A. Sir, you are very good. 

Sir A. And it is my wish, while yet I live, to have my boy 
make some figure in the world. I have resolved, therefore, to 
fix you at once in a noble independence. • 

Capt. A. Sir, your kindness overpowers me. Such gener- 
osity makes the gratitude of reason more lively than the sensa- 
tion even of filial affection. 

Sir A. I am glad you are so sensible of my attention ; and 
you shall be master of a large estate in a few weeks. 

Capt. A. Let my future life, sir, speak my gratitude. I 
cannot express the sense I have of your munificence. Yet, sir, 
I presume you would not wish me to quit the army ? 

Sir A. O, that shall be as your wife chooses. 
Capt. A. My wife, sir ? 

Sir A. Ay, ay, settle that between you — settle that between 
you. 



562 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

Capt. A. A wife, sir, did you say ? 

Sir A. Ay, a wife — why, did I not mention her before ? 

Capt. A. Not a word of her, sir. 

Sir A. Upon my word, I must n't forget her, though ! Yes, 
Jack, the independence I was talking of is by a marriage — the 
fortune is saddled with a wife; but I suppose that makes no 
difference ? 

Capt. A. Sir, sir, you amaze me ! 

Sir A. What 's the matter ? Just now you were all grati- 
tude and duty. 

Capt. A. I was, sir ; you talked to me of independence and 
a fortune, but not one word of a wife. 

Sir A. "Why, what difference does that make ? Sir, if you 
have the estate, you must take it with the live stock on it, as it 
stands. 

Capt. A. If my happiness is to be the price, I must beg leave 
to decline the purchase. Pray, sir, who is the lady ?' 

Sir A. What 's that to you, sir ? Come, give me your prom- 
ise to love, and to marry her directly. 

Capt. A. Sure, sir, that 's not very reasonable, to summon 
my affections for a lady I know nothing of! 

Sir A. I am sure, sir, 'tis more unreasonable in you to object 
to a lady you know nothing of. 

Capt. A. You must excuse me, sir, if I tell you, once for^all, 
that on this point I cannot obey you. 

Sir A. Hark you, Jack ! I have heard you for some time 
with patience ; I have been cool, — quite cool; but take care; 
you know I am compliance itself, when I am not thwarted ; no 
one more easily led — when I have my own way ; but don't put 
me in a frenzy. 

Capt. A. Sir, I must repeat it ; in this I cannot obey you. 

Sir A. Now, shoot me, if ever I call you Jack again while 
I live ! 

Capt. A. Nay, sir, but hear me. 

Sir A. Sir, I won't hear a word — not a word! — not one 
word! So, give me your promise by a nod ; and I'll tell you 
what, Jack, — I mean, you dog, — if you don't 

Capt. A. What, sir, promise to link myself to some mass of 
ugliness ; to 



STANDARD DIALOGUES. . oG3 

Sir A. Sir, the lady shall be as ugly as I choose ; she shall 
have a hump on each shoulder ; she shall be as crooked as the 
crescent ; her one eye shall roll like the bull's in Cox's Museum ; 
she shall have a skin like a mummy, and the beard of a Jew ; — 
she shall be all this, sir ! Yet, I '11 make you ogle her all day, 
and sit up all night to write sonnets on her beauty ! 

Capt. A. This is reason and moderation, indeed ! 

Sir A. None of your sneering, puppy ! — no grinning, jacka- 
napes ! 

Capt. A. Indeed, sir, I never was in a worse humor for mirth 
in my life. 

Sir A. 'T is false, sir ! I know you are laughing in your 
sleeve. I know you '11 grin when I am gone, sir ! 

Capt. A. Sir, 1 hope I know my duty better. 

Sir. A. None of your passion, sir ! none of your violence, if 
you please ! It won't do with me, I promise you. 

Capt. A. Indeed, sir, I never was cooler in my life. 

Sir A. I know you are in a passion in your heart ; I know 
you are, you hypocritical young dog ! But it won't do ! 

Capt. A. Nay, sir, upon my word 

Sir A. So you will fly out ! . Can't you be cool, like me ? 
What good can passion do ? Passion is of no service, you impu- 
dent, insolent, overbearing reprobate ! There, you sneer again ! 
Don't provoke me ! But you rely upon the mildness of my 
temper, you do, you dog ! You play upon* the meekness of my 
disposition ! Yet, take care ; the patience of a saint may bo 
overcome at last ! But, mark ! I give you six hours and a half 
to consider of this : if you then agree without any condition, to 
do everything on earth that I choose, why, I may, in time, forgive 
you. If not, don't enter the same hemisphere with me ; don't 
dare to breathe the same air, or use the same light, with me ; 
but get an atmosphere and a sun of your own ! I '11 strip you 
of your commission ; I '11 lodge a five-and-three-pence in the 
hands of trustees, and you shall live' on the interest ! I '11 disown 
you. I '11 disinherit you ! I '11 never call you Jack again. 
\_Exit.~\ 

Capt. A. Mild, gentle, considerate father ! I kiss your hand. 

R. B. Sheridan. 



564 . THE UNION SPEAKER. 



ccclxxxh. 

ROLL A AND ALONZO. 

[Enter Rolla disguised as a Monk.~\ 

T> OLLA. Inform me, friend, is Alonzo, the Peruvian, 

^~ confined in this dungeon? 

Sentinel. He is. 

Holla. I must speak with him. 

Sentinel. You must not. 

Rolla. He is my friend. 

Sentinel. Not if he were your brother. 

Holla. What is to be his fate ? 

Sentinel. He dies at sunrise. 

Holla. Ha ! then I am come in time, 

Sentinel. Just to witness his death. 

Rolla. [Advancing toward the door.~\ Soldier, I must speak 
with him. 

Sentinel. [Pushing him back with his gun.~] Back ! back ! 
it is impossible. 

Rolla. I do entreat you, but for one moment. 

Sentinel. You entreat in vain, — my orders are most strict. 

Rolla. Look on this massive wedge of gold ! look on these 
precious gems ! In thy land they will be wealth for thee and 
thine, beyond thy hope or wish. Take them ; they are thine ; 
let me but pass one moment with Alonzo. 

Sentinel. Away ! Would'st thou corrupt me ? — me, an old 
Castilian ! I know my duty better. 

Rolla. Soldier, hast thou a wife ? 

Sentinel. I have. 

Rolla. Hast thou children ? 

Sentinel. Four honest, lovely boys. 

Rolla. Where didst thou leave them ? 

Sentinel. In my native village, in the very cot where I was 
born. 

Rolla. Dost thou love thy wife and children ? 

Rolla. Do I love them ? God knows my heart, — I do. 

Rolla. Soldier, imagine thou wert doomed to die a cruel 
death, in a strange land, — what would be thy last request ? 



STANDARD DIALOGUES. 565 

Sentinel That some of my comrades should carry my dying 
blessing to my wife and children. 

Rolla. What if that comrade was at thy prison door, and 
should there be told, " Thy fellow-soldier dies at sunrise, yet 
thou shalt not for a moment see him, nor shalt thou bear his 
dying blessing to his poor children, or his wretched wife ! " — 
What would'st thou think of him who thus could drive thy com- 
rade from the door? 

Sentinel. How ! 

Rolla. Alonzo has a wife and child ; and I am come but to 
receive for her, and for her poor babe, the last blessing of my 
friend. 

Sentinel. Go in. [Exit Sentinel.'] 

Rolla. [ Calls'] Alonzo ! Alonzo ! 

[Enter Alonzo, speaking as he comes in.] 

Alonzo. How ! is my hour elapsed ? Well, I am ready. 

Rolla. Alonzo, — know me ! 

Alonzo. Rolla ! Heavens ! how didst thou pass the guard ? 

Rolla. There is not a moment to be lost in words. This dis- 
guise I tore from the dead body of a friar, as I passed our field 
of battle. It has gained me entrance to thy dungeon ; now, take 
it thou, and fly. 

Alonzo. And Rolla, 

Rolla. Will remain here in thy place. 

Alonzo. And die for me ! No ! Rather eternal torture rack 
me. 

Rolla. I shall not die, Alonzo. It is thy life Pizarro seeks, 
not Rolla's ; and thy arm may soon deliver me from prison. Or, 
should it be otherwise, I am as a blighted tree in the desert ; 
nothing lives beneath my shelter. Thou art a husband and a 
father; the being of a lovely wife and helpless infant depend 
upon thy life. Go, go, Alonzo, — not to save yiyself, but Cora 
and thy child. 

Alonzo. Urge me not thus, my friend. — I am' prepared to 
die in peace. 

Rolla. To die in peace ! devoting her you have sworn to live 
for, to madness, misery, and death ! 

Alonzo. Merciful Heavens ! 

Rolla. If thou art yet irresolute, Alonzo, — now mark me 



566 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

well. Thou knowest that Rolla never pledged his word, and 
shrank from its fulfilment. And here I swear, if thou art proudly- 
obstinate, thou shalt have the desperate triumph of seeing Rolla 
perish by thy side. 

Alonzo. O, Rolla ! you distract me ! Wear you the robe ; 
and though dreadful the necessity, we will strike down the guard 
and force our passage. 

Rolla. What, the soldier on duty here ? 

Alonzo. Yes, — else, seeing two, the alarm will be instant 
death. 

Rolla. For my nation's safety, I would not harm him. That 
soldier, mark me, is a man ! All are not men that wear the 
human form. He refused my prayers, refused my gold, refused 
to admit, — till his own feelings bribed him. I will not risk a 
hair of that man's head, to save my heartstrings from consuming 
fire. But haste ! A moment's further pause, and all is lost. 

Alonzo. Rolla, I fear thy friendship drives me from honor 
and from right. 

Rolla. Did • Rolla ever counsel dishonor to his friend ? 
[ Throwing the friar s garment over his shoulder.'] There ! con- 
ceal thy face. Now, God be with thee ! Kotzebtte. 



CCCLXXXHI. 
THE ENGLISH TRAVELLER. 

rpRAVELLER. Do you belong to this house, friend ? 
- 1 - Landlord. No, it belongs to me, I guess. [The Trav- 
eller takes out his memorandum-book, and in a low voice reads 
what he writes.] 

Trav. " Mem. Yankee landlords do not belong to their 
houses." [Aloud.] You seem young for a landlord : may I ask 
how old you are ? 

Land. Yes, if you 'd like to know. 

Trav. Hem ! [Disconcerted.] Aj*e you a native, sir ? 

Land. No, sir ; there are no natives hereabouts. 

Trav. "Mem. None of the inhabitants natives ; ergo, all 
foreigners." [Aloud.] Where were yon born, sir ? 

Land. Do you know where Marblehead is ? 



STANDARD DIALOGUES. 567 

Trav. Y*. 

Land. Well, I was not born there. 

Trav. Why did you ask the question, then? 

Land. .Because my daddy was. 

Trav. But you were born somewhere. 

Land. That's true; but as father moved up country afore 
the townships were marked out, my case is somewhat like the 
Indian's who was born at Nantucket, Cape Cod, and all along 
shore. 

Trav. Were you brought up in this place, sir ? 

Land. No ; I was raised in Varmount till mother died, and 
then, as father was good for nothing after that, T pulled up stakes 
and went to sea a bit. 

Trav. "Mem. Yankees, instead of putting up gravestones, 
pull up stakes, and go to sea, when a parent dies." \_Aloud.~] 
You did not follow the sea long, for you have not the air of a 
mariner. 

Land. Why, you see, I had a leetle knack at the coopering 
business ; and laming that them folks that carry it on in the 
West Indies die off fast, I calculated I should stand a chance to 
get a handsome living there. 

Trav. And so you turned sailor to get there ? 

Land. Not exactly ; for I agreed to work my passage by 
cooking for the crew, and tending the dumb critters. 

Trav. Dumb critters ! Of what was your lading composed ? 

Land. A leetle of everything ; — horses, hogs, hoop-poles, 
and Hingham boxes ; boards, ingyons, soap, candles, and ile. 

Trav. "Mem. Soap, candles, and ile, called dumb critters 
by the Yankees." \_Aloud.~] Did you arrive there safely ? 

Land. No, I guess we did n't. 

Trav. Why not ? 

Land. We had a fair wind, and sailed a pretty piece, I tell 
you ; — but jest afore we reached the eend of" our vige, some 
pirates overhauled us, and stole all our molasses, rum, and gin- 
gerbread. 

Trav. Is that all they did to you ? 

Land. No, they ordered us on board their vessel, and prom- 
ised us some black-strap. 

Trav. "Mem. Pirates catch Yankees with a black-strap." 
\_Aloud.~] Did you accept the invitation ? 



568 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

Land. No, I guess we didn't. And so they threatened to 
fire into us. 

Trav. What did your captain do ? 

Land. " Fire, and be darned ! " says he, " but you 'd better 
not spill the deacon's He, I tell you." 

Trav. And so you ran off, did you ? 

Land. No ; we sailed off a small piece. But the captain 
said it was a tarnal shame to let them steal our necessaries ; and 
so he right about, and peppered them, I tell you. 

Trav. "Mem. Yankees pepper pirates when they meet 
them." [Aloud.'] Did you take them ? 

Land. Yes, and my shear built this house. 

Trav. " Mem. Yankees build houses with shears." 

Land. It 's an ill wind that blows nowhere, as the saying is. 
And now, may I make so bold as to ask whose name I shall 
enter in my books ? 

Trav. Mine ! 

Land. Hem ! — if it 's not an impertinent question, may I 
ask which way you are travelling? 

Trav. Home. 

Land. Faith ! have I not as good a right to catechize you, 
as you had to catechize me? 

Trav. Yes. "Mem. Yankees the most inquisitive people 
in the world, — impertinent, and unwilling to communicate in- 
formation to travellers." [Aloud.'] Well, sir, if you have 
accommodations fit for a gentleman, I will put up with you. 

Land. They have always suited gentlemen, but I can't say 
how you '11 like 'em. 

Trav. There is a tolerable prospect from this window. What 
hill is that, yonder ? 

Land. Bunker Hill, sir. 

Trav. Pretty hill ! If I had my instruments here, I should 
like to take it. 

Land. You had better not try. It required three thousand 
instruments to take it in '75. 

Trav. " Mem. A common Yankee hill cannot be drawn 
without three thousand instruments." [Aloud.] Faith, Land- 
lord, your Yankee draughtsmen must be great bunglers. But 
come, sir, give me breakfast, for I must be going ; there is noth- 
ing else in the vicinity worthy the notice of a traveller. Anm. 



STANDARD DIALOGUES. 569 

OCCLXXXIV. 
THE EMBRYO LAWYER. 

Old Fickle — Tristram Fickle. 

/^~\LD F. What reputation, what honor, what profit can 

^-^ accrue to you from such conduct as yours ? One mo- 
ment you tell me you are going to become the greatest musi- 
cian in the world, and straight you fill my house with fiddlers. 

Tri. I am clear out of that scrape now, sir. 

Old F. Then from a fiddler you are metamorphosed into a 
philosopher ; and for the noise of drums, trumpets, and haut- 
boys, you substitute a vile jargon, more unintelligible than was 
ever heard at the tower of Babel. 

Tri. You are right, sir, I have found out that philosophy is 
folly ; so, I have cut the philosophers of all sects, from Plato and 
Aristotle down to the puzzlers of modern date. 

Old F. How much had I to pay the cooper, the other day, 
for barrelling you up in a large tub, when you resolved to live 
like Diogenes ? 

Tri. You should not have paid him anything, sir, for the tub 
would not hold. You see the contents are run out. 

Old F. No jesting, sir ; this is no laughing matter. Your 
follies have tired me out. I verily believe you have taken the 
whole round of arts and science in a month, and have been of 
fifty different minds in half an hour. 

Tri. And, by that, shown the versatility of my genius. 

Old F. Don't tell me of versatility, sir. Let me see a little 
steadiness. You have never yet been constant to anything but 
extravagance. 

Tri. Yes, sir, one thing more. 

Old F. What is that, sir. 

Tri. Affection for you. However my head may have wan- 
dered, my heart has always been constantly attached to the kind- 
est of parents ; and, from this moment, I am resolved to lay my 
follies aside, and pursue that line of conduct which will be most 
pleasing to the best of fathers and of friends. 

Old F. Well said, my boy, — well said ! You make me 



570 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

happy indeed. [Failing him on the shoulder.'] Now, then, my 
dear Tristram, let me know what you really mean to do. 

Tri. To study the law. — 

Old F. The law ! 

Tri. I am most resolutely bent on following that profession. 

Old F. No ! 

Tri. Absolutely and irrevocably fixed. 

Old F. Better and better. I am overjoyed. Why, 't is the 
very thing I wished. Now I am happy. [ Tristram makes gest- 
ures as if speaking.] See how his mind is engaged ! 

Tri. Gentlemen of the jury, — 

Old F. Why Tristram, — 

Tri. This is a cause, — 

Old F. O, my dear boy ! I forgive you all your tricks. I 
see something about you, now, that I can depend upon. [ Tris- 
tram continues making gestures.] 

Tri. I am for the plaintiff in this cause, — 

Old F. Bravo ! bravo ! excellent boy ! I '11 go and order 
your books directly. 

Tri. 'T is done, sir. 

Old F. What, already ! 

Tri. I ordered twelve square feet of books when I first 
thought of embracing the arduous profession of the law. 

Old F. What, do you mean to read by the foot ? 

Tri. By the foot, sir ; that is the only way to become a solid 
lawyer. 

Old F. Twelve square feet of learning ! Well, — 

Tri. I have likewise sent for a barber, — 

Old F. What, is he to teach you to shave close ? 

Tri. He is to shave one half of my head, sir. 

Old F. You will excuse me if I cannot perfectly understand 
what that has to do with the study of the law. 

Tri. Did you never hear of Demosthenes, sir, the Athenian 
orator ? He had half his head shaved, and locked himself up in 
a coaf-cellar. 

Old F. Ah ! he was perfectly right to lock himself up after 
having undergone such an operation as that. He certainly 
, would have made rather an odd figure abroad. 

Tri. I think I see him now, awaking the dormant patriotism 



STANDARD DIALOGUES. 571 

of his countrymen, — lightning in his eye, and thunder in his 
voice: he pours forth a torrent of eloquence, resistless in its 
force — the throne of Philip trembles while he speaks ; he de- 
nounces, and indignation tills the bosom of his hearers ; he 
exposes the impending danger, and every one sees impending 
ruin; he threatens the tyrant, — they grasp their swords; he 
calls for vengeance, — their thirsty weapons glitter in the air, 
and thousands reverberate the cry. One soul animates the na- 
tion, and that soul is the soul of the orator. 

Old F. ! what a figure he '11 make in the King's Bench ! 
But, come, I will tell you now what my plan is, and then you 
will see how happily this determination of yours will further it. 
You have [Tristram makes extravagant gestures, as if speaking, ~\ 
often heard me speak of my friend Briefwit, the barrister, — 

Tri. Who is against me in this cause ? — 

Old F. He is a most learned lawyer, — 

Tri. But as I have justice on my side, — 

Old F. Zounds ! he does n't hear a word I say ! Why, 
Tristram ! 

Tri. I beg your pardon, sir, I was prosecuting my studies. 

Old F. Now, attend, — 

Tri. As my learned friend observes, — Go on, sir, I am all 
attention. 

Old F. Well, my friend the counsellor, — 

Tri. Say learned friend, if you please, sir. We gentlemen 
of the law always, — 

Old F. Well, well, — my learned friend, — 

Tri. A black patch ! 

Old F. Will you listen, and be silent ? 

Tri. I am as mute as a judge. 

Old F. My friend, I say, has a ward, who is very handsome, 
and who has a very handsome fortune. She would make you 
a charming wife. 

Tri. This is an action, — 

Old F. Now, I have hitherto been afraid to introduce you 
to my friend, the barrister, because I thought your lightness and 
his gravity, — 

Tri. Might be plaintiff and defendant. 

Old F. But now you are growing serious and steady, and 



572 THE UNION SPEAKER. 

have resolved to pursue his profession, I will shortly bring you 
together ; you will obtain his good opinion, and all the rest fol- 
lows of course. 

Tri. A verdict in my favor. 

Old F. You marry and sit down, happy for life. 

Tri. In the King's Bench. 

Old F. Bravo ! Ha, ha, ha ! But now run to your study, 
— run to your study, my dear Tristram, and I '11 go and call 
upon the counsellor. 

Tri. I remove by habeas corpus. 

Old F. Pray have the goodness to make haste, then. 

[Hurrying him ojf\* 

Tri. Gentlemen of the Jury, this is a cause. \_Exit.~] 

Old F. The inimitable boy ! I am now the happiest father 
living. What genius he has ! He '11 be Lord Chancellor one 
day or other, I dare be sworn. I am sure he has talents ! ! 
how I long to see him at the bar ! Allingham. 



NOTES. 



Page No. 
3. i. Brougham, (broom,) Henry, Lord, philosopher, law-reformer, states- 
man, orator, and critic, was born in 1779, at Edinburgh, where he was 
educated at the High School and University. He united with Jeffrey 
and Horner in establishing the "Edinburgh Review," and for nearly 
twenty years he was one of its most regular contributors. Having for 
a few years practised law at the Scottish bar, he removed to England 
in 1807, and entered Parliament in 1810. His long parliamentary 
career has been characterized as one of desultory warfare. " A great 
part of his life has been spent in beating down; in detecting false 
pretensions whether in literature or politics; in searching out the abuses 
of long-established institutions; in laying open the perversions of public 
charities ; in exposing the cruelties of the criminal code ; or in rousing 
public attention to a world of evils resulting from the irregularities in 
the administration of municipal law." The character of his eloquence 
is well suited to the purposes of an assailant. " Eor fierce, vengeful, 
and irresistible assault," says John Foster, " Brougham stands the fore- 
most man in all the world." 

This extract is taken from his Inaugural Discourse as Lord Rector of 
the University of Glasgow, delivered in 1825. 
3. n. Richard Brinsley Sheridan was born at Dublin, September, 1751. 
His father was Thomas Sheridan, author of a Pronouncing Dictionary, 
and a distinguished teacher of elocution. His career was brilliant and 
successful, both as a dramatist and an orator. He entered Parliament 
in 1780, where his first speech was a failure ; and when told, at its close, 
by one of his disappointed friends, that he had better have stuck to 
his former pursuit of writing plays, he rested his head on his hand for 
some minutes, and then exclaimed with vehemence, " It is in me, and 
it shall come end of me!" And so it did. Of his speech against Has- 
tings, on the charge of the Begums, Mr. Pitt said, " an abler speech was 
perhaps never delivered-;" and Mr. Fox characterized it as " the great- 
est that had been delivered within the memory of man." But his 
, convivial habits betrayed him into gross intemperance, and he became 
bankrupt in character and health, as well as in fortune, and died on the 
7th of July, 1816, at the age of sixty-four, a melancholy example of 
brilliant talents sacrificed to a love of display and sensual indulgence. 



574 NOTES. 

Page No. 

4. ii. This is a very useful piece for practice, on account of the excellent 

illustrations of emphasis and inflections which it affords. The third 
paragraph is a fine example of the circumflex slides. 

5. in. From the speech on the Begum Charge, before the House of Lords, sit- 

ting as a High Court of Parliament, June, 1788, and said to be the most 
graphic and powerful description to be found in the speeches of Sheri- 
dan. 

— — Oude, (ood): Begums, Hindoo Princesses. 

— — Zenana, (ze-nah-nah): that part of a house in India particularly re- 

served for women. 

6. rv. Thomas Smith Grimke, was born in Charleston, S. C, September 26, 

1786. He was a descendant of the Huguenots. In the days of Nulli- 
fication, he supported the General Government. He was an eloquent 
advocate of the Union, and in a Fourth of July Oration at Charleston, 
in 1809, he graphically depicts the horrors of civil war, which must 
follow disunion. He died on the 12th of October, 1834. 
8. v. Lycian (li'-she-an): Achaean (a-kee'-an): Hanseatic (han-se-at'-ic), 
from Hanse (han-seh), a German word, signifying " association for 
mutual support." Hamburg, Lubeck, Bremen, and Frankfort, con- 
stitute the present free Hanseatic cities. 

12. vin. Chauncey A. Goodrich occupied the chair of Rhetoric and Oratory 
in Yale College, from 1817 until 1839, when he was transferred to that 
of Pastoral Theology, which he filled for more than thirty years. His 
chief literary works are his " Collection of Select British Eloquence," 
an excellent book, and his revised and enlarged edition of " "Webster's 
Dictionary." 

Mr. Webster's argument in the Dartmouth College case, was delivered 
in 1818, and Professor Goodrich says that he went to Washington 
chiefly for the sake of hearing it. 

14. ix. Josiah Quincy was born in 1772, and graduated at Harvard College 
in 1790. He was in Congress from 1805 until 1813 ; mayor of Boston 
for six years, and President of Harvard from 1829 until 1845. He 
died July 1, 1864. 

This extract is from his Centennial Address on the Two Hundredth 
Anniversary of the Settlement of Boston, delivered in 1830. 

16. x. Bon Homme Richard: (b5 nom ree'-shar") Guerriere : (gher-re-air"). 

17. XI. Willam Ellery Channing, grandson of William Ellery, one of the 

signers of the Declaration, was born at Newport, R. I., April 7, 1780. 
In 1798, he was graduated at Harvard, with the highest honors. For 
nearly forty years he was pastor of the Federal Street Church, in Bos- 
ton. The collection of his Works embraces six volumes. He was one 
of the most eloquent of American divines, and he wrote largely on war, 
temperance, slavery, and education. He died October 2, 1842. 

22. xiv. Tyrol (tyV-ol): Innspruk (inns'-prook): Scheldt (skelt). 

23. xv. Thomas Francis Meagher, an Irish patriot and orator. At present a 

general in the United States Army, and a stanch friend of the Union. 
25. xvn. Henry Grattan, born at Dublin, July 3, 1746: died May 14, 1820. 
He was the greatest of Irish patriots, and Uhe greatest of Irish orators. 
His forte was reasoning, but it was " logic on fire." A distinguished 
writer described his eloquence as a combination of cloud, whirlwind. 



NOTES. 575 

Page No. 

and flame." His style was elaborated with great care. His lan- 
guage is select, and his periods are easy and iluent. 

27. xviii. RUFUS CHOATB was born at Ipswich, Mass., October 1, 1799, gradu- 
ated at Dartmouth College, with the highest honors, in 1819, and 
died at Halifax, while on his way to Europe, July 13, 1859. Gifted 
with the most brilliant intellectual powers, he was ever a hard 
6tudent. Mr. Everett says of him, " With such gifts, such attain- 
ments, and such a spirit, he placed himself, as a matter of course, 
not merely at the head of the jurists and advocates, but of the 
public speakers of the country." His most famous oration is his 
Eulogy on Daniel Webster, delivered at Dartmouth College. Mr. 
Choate's Works have been edited, and an admirable Memoir of 
his Life written, by Professor Samuel G. Brown, the whole being 
published in two octavo volumes. 

29. xx. Boeihius (bo-e'-thi-us). 

— — Sibyl (s\W\\). 

30. xxi. Erom a Lecture on the Eloquence of Revolutionary Periods, deliv- 

ered in Boston, Eebruary, 1857. 

33. xxni. gobelin (gob'-e-lin): Pericles (per'-l-cles). 

37. xxvu. Mus. Lydia Maria Child, whose maiden name was Francis, was 
born in Massachusetts, but passed a portion of her earlier years in 
Maine. Her literary productions are numerous, and are character- 
ized by vigor and originality of thought. She has been very promi- 
nent in the anti-slavery movement. A work on the subject of 
slavery, published by her in 1833, produced a great sensation. 
This selection is from The Rebels, a tale of the Revolution, which 
was published in 1825, when she was quite young. 

41. xxx. Patrick Henry. This distinguished " orator of nature" was born 
in Virginia, May 29, 1736. He was a member of the first Congress, 
which met in Carpenter's Hall, at Philadelphia, on the 4th of Sep- 
tember, 1774. For several years he was governor of Virginia, and 
for more than thirty years he stood among the foremost of American 
patriots and statesmen. He was one of the earliest and most power- 
ful opponents of British power. In 1765, as member of the House 
of Burgesses, he introduced his famous resolutions against the Stamp 
Act, which proved the opening of the American Revolution in the 
colony of Virginia. He died on the 6th of June, 1799. His life has 
been written by William Wirt. 

This speech was delivered about one month before the battle of 
Lexington, so that his prophecy, " The next gale," &c, was al- 
most literally fulfilled. 

44. xxxiii. Presidium (pre-sid'-i-um): a guard. 

— — Pueblo (pwa / blo): a village. 

— — ranch : a hut, or collection of huts ; a farming establishment. 

— — Tehuauntepec (ta-huan-te-pec). 

46. xxxiv. Rev. Robert Hall, an eminent Baptist minister, was born at 
Arnsby, England, August, 1764, and died at Bristol, on the 21st 
of February, 1831. His writings, which have been published in six 
volumes, are highly finished in st}*le, and display a remarkable 
combination of logical precision, metaphysical acuteness, practical 



576 NOTES. 

Page No. 

sense and sagacity, with a rich luxuriance of imagination, and all 
the graces of composition. Dr. Parr says of him, — " He has, like 
Jeremy Taylor, the eloquence of an orator, the fancy of a poet, the 
subtlety of a schoolman, the profoundness of a philosopher, and 
the piety of a saint." 

47. xxxv. Joseph Story was born at Marblehead, Mass., September 18, 1779. 
In 1810, he was appointed by President Madison Associate Justice of 
the Supreme Court, and in 1829, he was made Professor of the Dane 
Law School, which office he held until his death, September 10th, 
1845. He was an eminent jurist, an eloquent orator, and a finished 
scholar. 

— — Sitoa : the metre here requires the accent on the first syllable 

(sil'-o-a,) though most authorities make it (sil-o'-a.). 

52. xxxix. Rev. Elijah Kellogg, a clergyman in Boston. He wrote this 
piece especially for declamation. This copy is a recent revision by 
the author for Hillard's Reader. 

54. xl. From a speech delivered in the House of Representatives of the 
United States, January 8, 1847. 

56. xli. From an oration delivered at the seat of Government, on the occasion 
of laying the corner-stone of the National Monument to Washington, 
July 4, 1848. 

70. liii. Fisher Ames was born at Dedham, Mass., April 9th, 1758, where 
he died, July 4th, 1808. He was a member of the first Congress 
under the Constitution, in which body he remained eight years. 
In 1804, he was tendered the Presidency of Harvard College, which 
he declined. He was an excellent classical scholar and an accom- 
plished orator. His speech on Jay's Treaty, from which this extract 
is taken, is a production of the deepest pathos and richest eloquence. 
Webster is said to have committed the whole speech to memory in 
early life. 

92. lxix. Brougham's career, though brilliant, has been marked by the most 
extraordinary inconsistencies and contradictions, and now, at the age 
of eighty-five, forgetting his brave denunciation of slavery, he takes 
sides with a wicked rebellion, which was set on foot for the establish- 
ment of an empire based on slavery. 

97. lxxiii. Richard Lalor Shiel was born in Ireland, August 17, 1791, and 
died in Italy, May 23, 1857. He entered Parliament in 1830, and 
at the time of his death, he was Minister at the Court of Tuscany. 
For bold, impassioned declamation, this extract has seldom been 
equalled. 

— — Strafford, Earl, whose family name was Wentworth. Rene- 

gade, because having at first resisted the arbitrary power of Charles 
the First, he afterwards became so obnoxious to the people by his own 
exercise of arbitrary power that he was impeached of high treason 
and executed. 

— — one man of great abilities : Lord Lynd hurst, who was born in 

Boston, Mass., May 21, 1772. He was the son of the eminent 
portrait and historical painter, John Singleton Copley. 
68. — Assaye (as-si'), a small town in Hindostan, where the Duke of 

Wellington commenced his career of victory in a battle fought 
September 23, 1803. 



NOTES. 577 

Page No. 

98. lxxiii. Waterloo: (waw'-ter-loo ,) battle of, June 18, 1815. 

— — Vuneira: (ve-mii'-e-rah,) a town in Portugal, where the Duke of 

Wellington defeated the French, August 21, 1808. 

— — Badajos: (bad-ah-hoci') a town in Spain, taken from the French 

by the Duke of Wellington, April 6, 1812. 

— — Salamanca : (sah-lah-mang'-kah) a city in Spain, near which the 

English, under Wellington, totally defeated the French, under 
Marmont and Clusel, July 22, 1812. 

— — Albuera: (.al-boo-a'-rah ) a town in Spain where the British and 

allies gained a victory over the French, May 16, 1811. 

— — Toulouse : (too-looz') a city in France, where Wellington defeated 

the French under Soult, April 10, 1814. 

99. lxxiv. Francis Wayland, President of Brown University from 1827 

until 1856, was born at New York, March 11, 1796. 

111. lxxxiii. Edward Everett was born at Dorchester, Mass., April 11, 
1794, took his degree at Harvard College in 1811, and was settled 
over the church in Brattle Street, Boston, in 1813. In 1815, he 
was appointed Professor of Greek Literature in Harvard College, 
and he devoted the four succeeding years to stud}' and travel in 
Europe, with the view to further qualify himself for its duties, 
which he assumed in 1819, with those of editor of the " North 
American Review." Both these positions he held till 1825, when 
he took his' seat in Congress as Representative from Middlesex 
County, which he held for ten years. He was Governonof Massa- 
chusetts from 1836 until 1840. In 1841 he was appointed Minister 
Plenipotentiary to the Court of St. James, and on his return home 
in 1846, was elected President of Harvard College, which position 
he resigned in 1849. He succeeded Mr. Webster i>s Secretary 
of State, in 1852, and in 1853 was chosen to the Senate of the 
United States, but soon resigned on account of ill health. Edward 
Everett is the most accomplished orator in this country, and he 
may justly be styled the Cicero of America. His splendid oration 
pronounced August 26, 1824, at Cambridge, before the Society of 
Phi Beta Kappa, closing with the beautiful apostrophe to Lafay- 
ette, who was present, placed him before the public as one of the 
greatest and most accomplished orators who had ever appeared 
in America. The reputation then achieved by him has been 
steadily advancing for forty years. On the breaking out of the 
rebellion, he at once came out boldly in support of the Govern- 
ment and the Constitution, and during the struggle thus far, his 
matchless pen, his eloquent voice, and his great personal influence 
have been employed, on all proper occasions, in maintaining the 
cause of his country. Three large octavo volumes of his orations 
and occasional speeches have been published, constituting a body 
of eloquence and learning, which has been surpassed by no other 
orator in the language. 

111. — From an oration delivered at Plymouth, on the anniversary of 

the landing of the Pilgrims, 22d of December, 1824. 

114. lxxxvi. From an oration delivered at Bloody Brook, in South Deer- 
field, Mass., September 30, 1835, in commemoration of the fall 

37 



578 NOTES. 

Page No. 

of the " Flower of Essex," at that spot, in King Philip's war, 

September 18, (0. S.) 1675. 
114. i,xxxvi. Mount Hope: a beautiful eminence of Bristol County, R. I., on 

the west shore of Mount Hope Bay. 
118. lxxxviii. Nevada, (na-vah'-dah) : Antilles, (an-teel') : Archipelagoes, 

(ar-ke-pel'-a-goze). 

120. xc. From a eulogy delivered at Boston, September 17, 1859, on 

the occasion of the inauguration of the statue of Daniel Web- 
ster, which stands in front of the State House. 

121. — Conde, (con-da') : Rocroi. (ro-kroi') : Arbela, (ar-bee'-lah). 
123. xcn. John Philpot Cukran was born at Newmarket, in the 

county of Cork, Ireland, July 24, 1750, and died at London, 
October 14, 1817. His voice was naturally bad, and his articu- 
lation so hasty and confused, that he went among his school- 
fellows by the name of " Stuttering Jack Curran." His manner 
was awkward, his gesture constrained and meaningless, and 
his whole appearance calculated only to produce laughter, not- 
withstanding the evidence he gave of superior abilities. All 
these faults he overcame by severe and patient labor. One 
of his biographers says, — u His oratorical training was as 
severe as any Greek ever underwent." Constantly on the watch 
against bad habits, he practised daily before a glass, reciting 
passages from Shakspeare, Junius, and the best English ora- 
tors. He became the most eloquent of all Irish advocates, and 
for more than twenty years he had an unrivalled mastery of 
the Irish bar. He was member of the Irish House of Com- 
mons from 1783 to 1797. In 1806, he was made Master of the 
Rolls, which office he resigned in 1814. 
127. XCV. Charles James Fox was born on the 24th of January, 1849 ; 

was educated at Eton College and Oxford University. He 
was fond of the classics, and took up Demosthenes as he did 
the speeches of Lord Chatham. As an orator he was much 
indebted to the study of the Greek writers, for the simplicity 
of his tastes, his entire abstinence from everything like mere 
ornament, the terseness of his style, the point and stringency 
of his reasonings, and the all-pervading cast of intellect which 
distinguishes his speeches even in the most vehement bursts 
of impassioned feeling. But his tastes were too exclusively 
literary. He could discuss Greek metres with Porson, but he 
had little acquaintance with the foundations of jurisprudence, 
or the laws of trade; and he always felt the want of an early 
training in scientific investigation, correspondent to that he re- 
ceived in classical literature. He took his seat in Parliament 
in 1768. He was the first man in the House of Commons, who 
took the ground of denying the right of Parliament to tax 
the colonies without their consent, and he went on identifying 
himself more and more to the end of life with the popular part 
of the Constitution, and with the cause of free principles 
throughout the world, aiming always amid all the conflicts of 
party " to widen the base of freedom, — to infuse and circulate 



NOTES. 579 

rage No. 

the spirit of liberty." He made it a point to speak on every question 
that came up, whether interested in it or not, as a means of exer- 
ci.-ing and training his faculties, for he was bent on making himself 
a powerful debater. His love of argument was perhaps the most 
• striking trait of his character, and "lie rose," said Mr. Burke, " by 
slow degrees to be the most brilliant and accomplished debater 
the world ever saw." There was nothing strained or unnatural 
in his most vehement bursts of passion. " His feeling," says 
Coleridge, " was all intellect, and his intellect was all feeling." In 
his language, Mr. Fox studied simplicity, strength, and boldness. 
" Give me an elegant Latin and a homely Saxon word," says he, 
"and I will always choose the latter." He died on the 13th Sep- 
tember, 1806, and was buried with the highest honors of the nation, 
in Westminster Abbey. 

127. xcv. This extract is from his speech on the rejection of Bonaparte's 
overtures for peace which was delivered February 3d, 1800, and 
was considered by most who heard it as the ablest speech he ever 
made. 

This selection is a fine illustration of the use of the circumflex 
slides. 

— — Suwarroio: a Russian general. Praga: (prah'-gah). 

129. xcvi. Utrecht, (yoo'-trekt): Blenheim, (blen'-hime). 

131. xevm. John Quincy Adams, son of John Adams, the second president, 
was born at Braintree, Mass., on the 11th of Jul}', 1767. He took 
his degree at Harvard College in 1787, a year after his admission, 
having been prepared for an advanced class in Europe, where he had 
previously resided for several years. He studied law with Theophilus 
Parsons, at Newburyport, and commenced practice in 1700. He 
was a member of the Senate of the United States from 1803 until 
1808. In 1806 he was appointed Boylston Professor of Rhetoric in 
Harvard College, which office he held for three years. In 1810 he 
was appointed Minister to Russia, where he remained until 1815, 
when with other Commissioners he negotiated the treaty of peace 
with England at Ghent, and was appointed Minister to that country 
in the same year, a post which his father had occupied before him, 
and which is now so ably filled by his son, Charles Francis. He 
served as Secretary of State during the administration of Monroe, 
whom he succeeded in the Presidency. On his retirement from the 
Chief Magistracy, he was elected to represent his native district in 
the House of Representatives, until his death, which occurred the 
23d of February, 1848. His career as a member of the House was 
distinguished for his fearless and uncompromising defence of the 
right of petition, and for his bold and effective opposition to the 
usurpation of the slave power. 

133. xcix. Gracchi: (grak'-ki) two distinguished Romans, sons of Cornelia. 

135. ci. Joseph Warren, the first great martyr in the cause of Indepen- 
dence, was born at Roxbury, Mass., June 11th, 1741, and was 
killed at the battle of Bunker Hill, June 17, 1775. General Warren 
acted as a volunteer at the battle of Bunker Hill, serving as a private 
in the ranks in the redoubt, having borrowed a musket from a ser- 



560 NOTES. 

Page No. 

geant. When urged against hazarding his life on that day, he re- 
plied enthusiastically, — " Duke et decorum est pro patria mori." 

141. cv. William Pitt, the younger, was born on the 28th of May, 1759, 
and was the second son of Lord Chatham. He was educated at 
Cambridge University, where he continued nearly seven years, 
devoting his attention mainly to three things; namely, the classics, 
mathematics, and the logic of Aristotle applied to the purposes of 
debate. In earl}' life his whole soul seems to have been absorbed 
by one idea — that of becoming a distinguished orator. " Multum 
hand multa" was his motto in most of his studies for life. This 
language gave direction to most of his reading in English Litera- 
ture; he had the finest parts of Shakspeare by heart; he read the 
best historians with great care; he entered Parliament in 1781, and 
at a single bound, when only twenty-two years of age, he placed 
himself in the foremost rank of English statesmen and orators, at 
the proudest era of English eloquence. He was made Prime Minis- 
ter at the age of twenty-four, and he continued to fill the first 
place in the councils of his countr} r , during most of the remaining 
period of his life, which terminated on the 23d of January, 1806, in 
the 47th year of his age. As a debater in the House, his speeches 
were logical and argumentative. The strength of his oratory was 
intrinsic, and his speeches were stamped with the inimitable marks 
of originality. 

This extract was taken from a speech on the abolition of the slave- 
trade, in the House of Commons, 1792, which is regarded as one 
of the most brilliant displays of his eloquence. 

143. cvi. Horace Mann was born at Franklin, Mass., May, 1796, and gradu- 

ated at Brown University, in 1819, with the highest honors. After 
a successful career as a politician, having served in both branches 
of the Legislature, on the organization of the Board of Education 
in Massachusetts, on the 29th of June, 1837, Mr. Mann was elected 
its Secretary, which office he continued to fill with great ability, 
for twelve years. His twelve Annual Keports to the Board of Edu- 
cation probably constitute the most readable and instructive series 
of educational documents which has been produced by one mind in 
any -language. On his retirement from the Secretaryship, he was 
elected Representative to Congress to fill the vacancy caused by 
the death of John Quincy Adams. Having served in Congress 
two terms, he again returned to the educational field by accepting 
the Presidency of Antioch College, at Yellow Springs, Ohio, where 
he died. 

144. cvn. Daniel Webster was born at Salisbury, N. H., on the 18th of 

January, 1782, and graduated at Dartmouth College, in 1801. His 
college life was distinguished by assiduous and various studies. He 
was admitted to the bar in 1805, and commenced the practice of 
law in his native town, but soon after removed to Portsmouth. He 
removed to Boston in 1816, and died at Marshfield, Mass., October, 
1852. He was the first orator, the first jurist, and the first states- 
man of his generation, in America. His most famous forensic per- 
formance, was his argument in the Dartmouth College case. His 



NOTES. 581 

Page No. 

greatest parliamentary effort was his second speech on Foote's reso- 
lution; and his most important diplomatic service was his nego- 
tiation of the treaty of Washington, in 1842. His speeches and 
orations have been published in six volumes, with an admirable 
memoir, by Mr. Everett. 

157. cxvi. This Will: of Stephen Girard, of Philadelphia, providing for the 
founding of a college for orphans. 

160. cxvni. This selection is the peroration to Mr. Webster's second speech on 
Foote's resolution. 

165. cxxii. This extract is taken from the address delivered by Mr. Webster on 
the occasion of laying the corner-stone of the extension of the 
National Capitol.. 

168. cxxiv. From the address on the laying of the corner-stone of Bunker Hill 
Monument, at Charlestown, Mass., the 17th of June, 1825. 

170. cxxv. William Pitt, first Earl of Chatham, was born at London, on the 
15th of November, 1708. He became a member of Parliament in 
1735, at the age of twenty-six, and was made Secretary of State 
in December, 1756, which office he continued to hold, with a 
brief interval, until October, 1761. He was appointed to the office 
of Lord Privy Seal in 1766, and elevated to the peerage with the 
title of Earl Chatham. He died at Hayes, in Kent, on the 11th 
of May, 1788, in the seventieth year of his age. His devotion to 
the interest of the great body, especially the middling classes, of 
the English nation, won for him the title of " the Great Commoner." 
He consecrated his great talents and commanding eloquence to the 
defence of the popular part of the Constitution. In the latter part 
of his life, though suffering much from bodilj' infirmities, he was the 
champion of the American cause, standing forth, in presence of the 
whole British empiA, to arraign, as a breach of the Constitution, 
every attempt to tax a people who had no representative in Parlia- 
ment. This was the era of his noblest efforts in oratory. He has been 
generally regarded as the most powerful orator of modern times. 
His success, no doubt, was owing in part to his extraordinary personal 
advantages. In his best days before he was crippled by the gout, 
his figure was tall and erect; his attitude imposing; his gestures 
energetic even to vehemence, yet tempered with dignity and grace. 
His voice was full and clear; his loudest whisper was distinctly 
heard; his middle notes were sweet and beautifully varied; and, 
when he elevated his voice to its highest pitch, the House was 
completely filled with the volume of sound. The effect was awful, 
except when he wished to cheer or animate; then he had spirit- 
stirring notes which were perfectly irresistible. But although gifted 
by nature with a fine voice and person, he spared no effort to add 
everything that art could confer, for his improvement as an orator. 

174.cxxvrn. Henry Clay was born in Virginia, April 12, 1777, and died at 
Washington, June 29, 1852. In early life his advantages of educa- 
tion were limited. He commenced the practice of the law in 1797. 
His political career began in 1803, and ended in 1852. He was 
twice Speaker of the National House of Representatives. In 1814, 
he was one of the commissioners to negotiate the Treaty of Ghent. 



582 NOTES. 

Page No. 

He represented the State of Kentucky in the United States Senate 
at various periods from 1806 till 1852. He was Secretary of State 
during the administration of John Quincy Adams, and he was 
three times the unsuccessful Whig candidate for the Presidency. 
He was a man of the warmest sympathies, and he captivated the 
hearts of all who came in contact with hiin. He was a patriot, and 
willingly sacrificed private preference to public good. He said 
truly in his valedictory address to the Senate, — "In all my public 
acts, I have had a single eye directed, and a warm and devoted 
heart dedicated to what, in my best judgment, I believed the true 
interest, the honor, the union, and the happiness of my country 
required." He was a consummate orator. In his manner he 
united the gentleness of woman with the pride and dignity of the 
haughtiest manhood. His style was full, flowing, and manly; and 
his voice was sonorous, sweet, and powerful. 

183. cxxxvi. Eliphalet Nott was born in Connecticut, in 1773, and is now 
upwards of ninety years of age. He has occupied the office of 
President of Union College for about sixty years. 
The eloquent discourse on the death of Hamilton was delivered at 
Albany, in 1804. 

190. cxi.. John Hancock, President of the American Congress in 1776, and 

Signer of the Declaration, was born in Massachusetts, in 1739, 
and died in 1793. 

This exti-act is from an oration delivered March 5th, on the anni- 
versary of the massacre of Boston citizens by British soldiers, 
which took place four years before. 

191. cxli. Edmund Burke, who was preeminently the great philosophical 

orator of our language, was born at Dublin, January 1, 1730, and 
died at Beaconsfield, near London, July 9th, 1797. His political 
career commenced in the House of Commons, of which body he 
was a member during the greater part of his subsequent life. He 
wrote out six of his great speeches, the last of which was that on 
the Nabob of Arcot's debts. He was strenuously opposed to the 
American war, and two of his greatest speeches, that on the 
Stamp Act, and that on Conciliation with America, supported the 
cause of the colonies. Of the latter, Mr. Everett says, — " It was 
less than a month before the commencement of hostilities, that 
Burke pronounced that truly divine oration on 'Conciliation with 
America,' which, in my poor judgment, excels everything, in the 
form of eloquence, that has come down to us from Greece or 
Rome." And he said further, — " Certainly, no compositions in the 
English tongue can take precedence of those of Burke, in depth 

of thought, reach of forecast, or magnificence of st}de In 

political disquisition elaborated in the closet, the palm must per- 
haps be awarded to Burke over all others, ancient or modern." 

203. CL, Platcea, (pla-te'-a): Artemisium, (ar-te-me'-ze-um). 

220. CLXii. Sir Walter Scott was born at Edinburgh, Scotland, August 15, 
1771, and died at Abbotsford, his country seat, on the banks of 
the Tweed, September 21, 1832. He passed through the High 
S«hool and University of his native city, without attaining any 



NOTES. 583 

Page No. 

marked distinction as a scholar. He made some proficiency in 
Latin, ethics, and history, but he had no taste for Greek. He ac- 
quired a general, though not a critical knowledge, of the German, 
French, Italian, and Spanish languages. But from early youth he 
was an insatiable reader, and he stored his mind with a vast fund 
of miscellaneous knowledge. Romances were among his chief 
favorites, and he had great facility in inventing and telling stories. 
He became greatly distinguished as a poet before he commenced his 
career as a novelist. His first great poem, the Lay of the Last Min- 
strel, published in 1805, was received with enthusiastic admiration, 
and at once stamped him as a poetical genius. The appearance of 
Marmion, in 1808, greatly enhanced his reputation as a poet, and 
the Lady of the Lake, which came out two years later, was still 
more popular. Here he touched his highest point in poetical com- 
position. His subsequent poems certainly added nothing to his 
reputation, if, indeed, they sustained it. 

But, " as the old mine gave symptoms of exhaustion," says Bulwer, 
the new mine, ten times more affluent, at least in the precious 
metals, was discovered. In 1814 he commenced that long and mag- 
nificent series of prose fictions, which, for seventeen years were 
poured out with an unprecedented prodigality, and which can only 
be compared with the dramas of Shakspeare, as presenting an end- 
less variety of original characters, scenes, historical situations and 
adventures. In 1326, he became bankrupt, in consequence of a 
partnership with a printer and publisher, and, although fifty-five 
years old, he undertook the heroic task of discharging his heavy 
pecuniary liabilities by the productions of his pen. In six years of 
intense literary labor, he nearly accomplished his noble object, but 
before he reached the goal, he sunk exhausted on the course. " In 
the portion of his life, from his bankruptcy to his death," says Mr. 
Hillard, " Scott's character shines with a moral grandeur far above 
mere literary fame." 

222. CLXiv. From the poem Marmion. 

— — Tantallon's towers : the ruins of Tantallon Castle occupy a high 

rock projecting into the German Ocean, about two miles east of 
North Berwick, in the southeastern part of Scotland. 

223. — Douglas, Archibald, Earl of Angus, a man remarkable for 

strength of body and mind, who died broken-hearted at calamities 
which befell his house and country at Flodden. 

224. clxv. Pibroch, (pl'-brok). In Scotland, a Highland air played on the 

bagpipe before the Highlanders when they go out to battle. 

— — Doneuil Dhu, (donnil du): MacDonald the Black. 

230. clxix. Parrhasius, (par-ra'-zhius): Prometheus, (pro-me'-thuse): Caucasus, 
(caw'-ca-sus): lame Lemnian: Vulcan, the artisan of the Olympian 
gods. 
232. clxx. Mrs. Felicia Hkmans, an admirable woman and sweet poetess, 
was born at Liverpool, England, September 25, 1793, and died 
May 16, 1835. Her maiden name was Browne. She was mar- 
ried to Captain Hemans, an officer in the British Army, but the 
union was not a happy one. Her imagination was chivalrous 



584 NOTES. 

Page No. 

and romantic, and she delighted in picturing the ancient mar- 
tial glory of England. The purity of her mind is seen in all her 
■works. Though popular, and in many respects excellent, her 
poetry is calculated to please the fancy rather than to make a 
deep and lasting impression. 

232. clxx. A true story. Young Casabianca, a boy thirteen years old, son 
of the commander of the Orient, remained at his post, in the 
battle of the Nile, after the ship had taken fire and all the guns 
had been abandoned, and was blown up with the vessel when 
the flames reached the magazine. 

259. clxxxvi. The Royal George, of 108 guns, whilst undergoing a partial ca- 
reening in Portsmouth Harbor, England, was overset about 10, 
A. M., August 29, 1782. The total loss was believed to be near 
1000 souls. 

263. cxc. Thomas Babington Macaulay was born in the county of 

Leicester, England, October 25, 1800, and died December, 28, 
1859. He was educated at Cambridge University. He wa3 
several times elected member of Parliament, and for several 
years he served the government in India as member of the 
Supreme Council. But his fame rests mainlj'- on his literary 
productions, the principal of which is his History of England, 
whose popularity has never been exceeded by any other historical 
■work in the language. His essays, which have been collected 
and published in six volumes, are remarkable for brilliancy of 
style and richness of matter. As a descriptive poet he has ex- 
hibited high genius in his " Lays of Ancient Rome." His " Bat- 
tle of Ivry " has the true trumpet-ring which kindles the soul 
and stirs the blood. 

*-. — Ivry, (ee'-vree): a town in France where Henry IV. gained a 

decisive victory over Mayenne, 1590. 

— — oriflamme, (or'-e-flam): the ancient royal standard of France. 

— — Mayenne, Duke: commander of the army of the League. 

— — Remember Saint Bartholomew : the massacre on Saint Bartholo- 

mew's Eve, August 23, 1572. 

265. cxci. Bingen, (been'-ghen). 

274. cxcvn. Samuel Taylor Coleridge, a man remarkable for his rich 
poetical imagination, his unrivalled colloquial eloquence, and his 
superior critical powers, was born in Devonshire, England, Octo- 
ber 20, 1772, and died July 25, 1834. He was educated at Christ's 
Hospital, London, where he had Charles Lamb for a school-fellow, 
and at Jesus' College, Cambridge. He afterwards acquired a 
knowledge of the German language and literature at Ratzburg 
and Gottingen. In early life he was a Unitarian and a Jacobin, 
but he subsequently became a Trinitarian and a Royalist. Those 
who knew him thought him equal to any task ; he planned great 
works in prose and verse which he never executed. His poetical 
works, of which his Ancient Mariner is the most striking and 
original, have been collected and published in three volumes. His 
language is often rich and musical, highly figurative and ornate. 
His Ode on France was considered by Shelley to be the finest 



NOTES. 585 

Page No. 

English ode of modern times. His Hymn on Chamouni is equally 
lofty and brilliant. 
274. cxcvii. Chamowu, (slia-moo'-nc) : a valley in the Sardinian States, bounded 
on the south by Mont Blanc, the most remarkable for its picturesque 
sites and the wild grandeur of its glaciers. 

— — Arte, (arve): a rapid river flowing into the Rhone. 
277. — Hierarchy (hi'-e-rark). 

283. ecu. William Collins, whose poems, though small in number, are 
rich in vivid imagery and beautiful description, was born in Chi- 
chester, England, December 25, 1720, and died in 17561 His odes 
are acknowledged to be the best of their kind in the language. 
His tin est lyric is his Ode on the Passions, which has been called " a 
magnificent gallery of allegorical paintings." 

287. cciv. John Dkyden, one of the great masters of English verse, was 
born in Northamptonshire, England, August, 1631, and died May 
1, 1700. His Life, by Johnson, is regarded as the most carefully 
written, the most eloquent and discriminating of all the " Lives 
of the Poets." His Life was also written by Sir Walter Scott, who 
edited a complete edition of his Works, in eighteen volumes. 

— — St. Cecilia : the patron-saint of music, and the reputed inventress 

of the organ. 
298. ccx. Thomas Campbell was born at Glasgow, Scotland, July 27, 1777, 
and died at Boulogne, France, June 15, 1844. He was educated 
at the university of his native city, and afterwards studied Greek 
in Germany under the learned Professor Heyne. After travelling 
on the continent he took up his residence in London, in 1803, and 
• devoted himself to literature as a profession. In 1799, at the early 

age of twenty-two years, he published The Pleasures of Hope, a 
poem of great merit, which captivated all hearts by its exquisite 
melody, its polished diction, and its generous and lofty sentiments. 
His second great poem, Gertrude of Wyoming, a Pennsylvanian Tale, 
was published in 1809. His genius shines most conspicuously in 
his shorter poems, his war-songs or lyrics, and his ballads, which 
have been said to form the richest offering ever made by poetry 
at the shrine of patriotism. Mr. Hillard says of him, — " No poet 
of our times has contributed so much, in proportion to the extent 
of his writings, to that stock of established quotations which pass 
from lip to lip, and from pen to pen, without any thought as to 
their origin." 

303. ccxiv. This fine passage is from the Pleasures of Hope. 

— — pandours, (pan dorz', the o as in move; the metre of the line re- 

quires the accent on the first syllable): infantry soldiers in the 
service of Austria, from districts near Pandur, in Hungary. 

— — hussars, (hooz'zarz): light-armed Hungarian horse-soldiers. 

304. — Kosciusko, (kos-ci-us'-ko): a Polish patriot and hero, who served 

on Washington's staff in the war of the Revolution. In the 
battle which decided the fate of Poland, in 1794, he fell from his 
horse covered with wounds, and was made prisoner by the enemy. 
He died in France, in 1817. 

305. cexv. Hohenlinden : {hohen, high ; linden, lime-trees,) the name of a village 



586 NOTES. 

Page No. 

in upper Bavaria, twenty miles east of Munich, celebrated for the 
victory of the French and Bavarians, under Moreau, over the 
Austrians, under Archduke John, December 3, 1800. This battle 
was witnessed by the poet Campbell, from the monastery of St. 
Jacob. In a letter written at this time, he says: " The sight of 
Ingoldstadt in ruins, and Hohenlinden covered with fire, seven 
miles in circumference, were spectacles never to be forgotten." 
He has immortalized that conflict in these inimitable stanzas 
which form one of the grandest battle-pieces that ever were 
drawn. 

305. ccxv. Iser, (e'zer): the name of a river in the vicinity of Hohenlinden. 

— — Frank : the ancient name of the French. 

— — Hun : a name applied to the barbarous people of Scythia who 

conquered and gave name to Hungary. 

— — Munich, (mu'nik). 

314. ccxxm. This is considered one of the best martial lyrics in the language. 

Its author, Fitz-Greene Halleck, was born at Guilford, in Conn., 
August, 1795. He has written but very little, but that little is of 
such excellence as to make us regret that he has not written 
more. 

— — Marco Bozzaris, (bot-sah'-ris) : the most famous hero of modern 

Greece, fell in a night attack on the Turkish camp at Lapsi, the 
site of the ancient Plataea, August 20, 1823, and expired in the 
moment of victory. His last words were: — " To die for liberty 
is a pleasure, and not a pain." 

315. — Old Platoea's Day : b. c. 479, when the Greeks, under Aristides 

and Pausanias, defeated the Persians with great slaughter: 

317. ccxxiv. Joseph Rodman Drake was born at New York, August 7, 1795, 

and died September 21, 1820. The most popular of his poems is 
the spirited ode, The American Flag, though his fame rests chiefly 
on the Culprit Fay, a poem of exquisite fancy and artistic execu- 
tion. 

318. ccxviii. Old Ironsides : the frigate Constitution. This poem was written 

when it was proposed to break her up and convert her into a re- 
ceiving ship, as unfit for service. 
321. ccxxvi. Charles Wolfe was born at Dublin, Ireland, December 14, 
1791, and died February 21, 1823. 

— — Sir John Moore, a British general, was killed at Corunna, in 

Spain, in a battle between the French and English, January 16, 
1809. He was wrapped in his military cloak and buried by night 
in a hasty grave on the ramparts of the town. 

335. ccxxxvi. From the last canto of Childe Harold. Compare this with the 

splendid prose poem by Dr. Swain, page 396. 

336. — Armada, (ar-mah'-dah) : a naval or military armament, espe- 

cially applied to the fleet sent by Spain against England, 1588, 
which was dispersed and shattered by a storm. 

— — Trafalgar, (traf-al-garO : a cape on the coast of Spain, mem- 

orable for the great naval victory of the English under Nel- 
son, who was killed in the action, over the French and Spanish 
fleets, October 21, 1805. 



NOTES. 587 

Page No. 

855. OOk From a lecture on The Eloquence of Revolutionary Periods, de- 

livered in Boston, before the Mechanic Apprentices' Associa- 
tion, February 19, 1857. 

356. ccli. From the same as above. 

357. — Mirubeau, (me'-r:ih-bo"): the greatest of French orators. 

— — Benin : a raised place ID Athens whence the orators addressed 

assemblies of the people 

358. CCLii. From an oration delivered in Boston, July 5, 1858, before the 

Boston Democratic Club, his last address on general political 
interests. 

360. cclv. From a speech on Boston Common, in the autumn of 1861, on 

the occasion of presenting a flag to the 23d Begiment of Mas- 
sachusetts Volunteers, commanded by Senator Wilson. 

361. CCLVi. From a speech on Boston Common in 1861, at a grand rally of 

Union men to promote enlistments to put down the rebellion. 
365. CCLVin. From an oration delivered on the 4th of July, 18G1, before the 
municipal authorities of Boston. 

387. cclxxiv. From an address delivered before the Norfolk County Agricul- 

tural Society, September, 1863. 

388. cclxxv. From an oration delivered at Roxbury, before the municipal 

authorities of the city, February 22, 1864. 

391. cclxxvi. From an address by Governor Andrew, to both branches of 

the Legislature, at the opening of the session, January, 1863. 

392. cclxxvii. From an address before both branches of the Legislature, at 

the opening of the session, January, 1864. 

393. cclxxviii. From a speech delivered in 1861, on the occasion of presenting 

a flag to the Second Regiment of Volunteers. 

396. cclxxx. From a discourse recently delivered by the author, in his own 
pulpit, at Providence, on his return from a voyage to Furope. 

404. cclxxxvi. From the author's speeches in the memorable canvass with 
Douglas for the senatorship in Illinois. 

406. cclxxxvii. This extract and the succeeding one, are from the author's last 
great speech delivered at Springfield, Illinois, in 1861. 

423. ccxcviii. George Thompson, the great English agitator and anti- 
slavery leader, delivered numerous addresses in different parts 
of England, during the summer of 1863, in defence of the 
American cause. This extract, from one delivered at Carlisle, 
England, was written out by the author, especially for this 
book. 

433. ccov. This extract and the two following were taken from an oration 

delivered July 4, 1863, before the municipal authorities of 
Boston. 

440. cccxi. From a eulogy on Webster, delivered in Boston, September 17, 

1859, on the occasion of the inauguration of his statue, in front 
of the State House. 

441. cccxn. From an oration delivered at the Dedication of the Soldiers' 

National Cemetery at Gettysburg, November 19, 1863. 

449. cccxvu. From a speech delivered in Tremont Temple, Boston, 1862. 

451. cccxvm. From a speech delivered in New Orleans, at a grand celebra- 
tion, on the occasion of the election of a Union Governor. 



588 NOTES. 

Page No. 

455. cccxxi. From a discourse delivered in Boston, before the Ancient and 
Honorable Artillery Company, at their anniversary, June, 1861. 

462. cccxxvi. Suggested by the President's first call for volunteers, April 16, 
1861. The famous bell Roland, of Ghent, was an object of 
great affection to the people, because it rang them to arms when 
Liberty was in danger. 

468. cccxxi*:. Gail Hamilton, the mm de plume of Miss Abigail Dodge, a 
popular authoress, who resides in the town of Hamilton, Mass. 

472. cccxxxi. Ziska's hunted flock, (shish'-ka): the Hussites in Bohemia. 

— — Toussaint L 1 Ouverture, the great St. Domingo chief, an unmixed 

negro, with no drop of white blood in his veins, having been 
treacherously arrested by his French foe, he was taken to France, 
and then sent by Napoleon to the Castle of St. Joux, to a dun- 
geon twelve feet by twenty, built wholly of stone, where he was 
finally left to starve to death. 

478. cccxxxv. On Saturday, the 7th of March, 1862, the United States sloop- 
of-war Cumberland, commanded by Captain Morris, was sunk 
in Hampton Roads, by the Confederate iron-clad, Merrimac, her 
men firing a broadside as she went down, with her flag flying. 

490. CCCXLiv. The subject of these stanzas was Ormsby Macknight Mitchell, 
a distinguished astronomer, and major-general of volunteers in 
the United States service, who was born in Kentucky, August 
28, 1810, and died at Beaufort, S. C, October 30, 1862. He was 
commander of the department of the South, and was making 
preparations for a vigorous campaign when he fell a victim to 
the yellow fever. 

493. cccxlvi. This is one of the finest productions which the present crisis has 
called forth. General Banks, in his official report of the assault 
on the fortifications of Port Hudson, on May 27th, thus speaks 
of the negro troops: " On the extreme right of our line, I posted 

the 1st and 2d regiments of negro troops The position 

occupied by these troops was one of importance, and called for 
the utmost steadiness and bravery in those to whom it was con- 
fided. It gives me pleasure to report that they answered every 
expectation. In many respects their conduct was heroic, — no 
troops could be more determined or more daring. They made, 
during the day, three charges upon the batteries of the enemy, 
suffering very heavy losses, and holding their positon at night- 
fall with the other troops on the right of our lines. The highest 
commendation is bestowed upon them by all the officers in com- 
mand on the right." And thus the question which had been so 
often asked, Will the negroes flghl? was answered, and settled, 
and ever since our brave white soldiers have been glad to 

" Hail them as comrades tried." 

511. ccclv. C. F. Brown, the comic writer, known as Artemus Ward. 



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